Breaking So Many of His Toys
by Wilkwo
Summary: Some people adore camping. Lucifer is not one of these people. Growing oddly more vulnerable doesn't help, neither does accidentally triggering the end of the world. Strange events (and creatures) abound. A mix of horror and a little humor where everything's at stake and our brightest angel is undone. Very close to finished. Hope you'll stick with me. M for language/adult themes.
1. Many Little Deaths

_Hello! This is the sequel to my first Lucifer fanfic '**All of My Worlds Suck**' You will want to read that first, seriously, as there's a rather important reveal in that one that plays hugely in this one. ;)_

_A bit of warning here - I haven't finished this story. I know where it's going to end up, but it's going to take a while to get there. It's at 35k at the moment... the way I write means this'll probably be 70k when it's done ;) Regardless, I took a break from this story a while ago and I'm now getting back into it. I can't promise I will finish it, but I certainly hope to. There are some awesome moments to come. It's in my usual style of silly and dark though, and it does get quite dark and quite silly._

_It also involves the entire cast. And I mean, even more entirely than the last one. :)_

_Let me know what you think, if you get the chance, and thanks for reading!_

* * *

Chloe stared up at a ceiling of blue fabric.

And frowned.

"Lucifer?"

"Mmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Updating insta."

"Lucifer."

"Yes?"

"How? We're in a tent in the middle of nowhere and last I checked I had negative bars. My phone was practically weeping."

Lucifer shuffled beside her and a white, rounded box the size and depth of a thick wallet appeared before her face.

"Satellite receiver. Little gift from Elon after a fun night out. Hooks up to his personal network. Lovely reception, amazing speed. Smile."

A phone appeared and her vision was obliterated by a nuclear flash.

She sighed.

"Lucifer."

"Chloe," he answered, mimicking her tone.

"I don't think you get the concept of camping."

"I'm not lying on a bed, darling. I thought that's what camping was."

Chloe shifted in the sleeping bag to face him. Propping her head on her hand, she tried to blink away the afterimage of the flash.

"Camping is more than 'not lying on a bed'!"

"Oh?" he murmured, turning to face her. The smile he gave her was mischievous in the muted glow of his phone, and his dark eyes held faint embers of flame. "Do tell?"

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his phone.

"It's about nature, and getting away from things like this," she waggled the phone, before tucking it under the mat behind her, "looking at the stars, and listening to the world breathe, and-"

Lucifer snorted over her. "Listening to the world breathe? What, like a four-billion-year-old asthmatic?" He tsked, and lifted his hand. "Phone?"

"No, not until you promise to turn it off for the rest of the trip."

"The rest of the trip?! Two weeks?!"

"Uh-huh, 13 days now and..." she tilted her head with a smirk, "...four hours for the trip back I think?"

He made a noise of pain. "Absolutely not."

"Then no sex," Chloe said, grinning at him. "Sex or phone. Choose."

"You're blackmailing me to keep me off the phone?!"

She nodded, absolutely confident of her power in this particular situation. "I am."

"Mmmm," he murmured, and the smile returned. "I like. Sex then. But only if that's all we do."

"What?! Wait, you can't turn this back on me!"

"I can and just did. Sex for the whole trip. It's a very natural thing, and you wanted nature."

"Nature as in trees, and mountain views, and animals, Lucifer, not-"

"I can be an animal." He flashed a lustful grin and raised an appreciative eyebrow. "As can you, it turns out."

"Oh my God," she giggled, "not for the whole trip. We have an itinerary!"

"A week then, final offer."

"Three days."

"Deal."

"Deal?" she squeaked. She really hadn't thought he'd agree so readily.

"Oh yes. Now," he growled. "My tongue, wherever shall I put it?"

"Lucifer!" she gasped, as his hand circled her lower back. "We can't have three days of sex right _now_. We have to sleep!"

"Sleep? What is this sleep business? I think you misunderstood me. Three days of non-stop sex, starting _now_."

"Oh my God, I'm going to die."

"Yes," he purred, sinking into the sleeping bag. "Many, many, _little_ deaths."

His artful hands danced over her skin, rolling her gently onto her back as he lowered further still.

"Oh, Lucifer, oh Hell, oh!"

And his tongue went somewhere very good indeed.


	2. Sacred Offerings of Bacon

_On the morning of the fourth day..._

The zipper on the tent plunged quickly, releasing a raucous snore from within and the heavily-stubbled face of a man, black hair mussed roguishly atop his head.

"Lovely," Lucifer murmured with a grin, before emerging from the tent and standing tall.

Grunting with a delicious stretch, he rubbed his bare abs briskly, scratched an itch on his bare butt swiftly, then picked a random direction to walk off in and pee.

The tall evergreens about him were rather happy he was there, which was a lovely message to get first thing in the morning. He tried not to pee on any of them, and aimed for a bare spot next to a rock covered in a patchwork of lichen instead, giving a satisfied sigh at the release.

The spot was quite lovely - on a slight rise with a view of a distant snow capped peak, jaggedly young. The hillside was covered with a spray of spruce and pine, carpeted by needles, and dotted with more boulders - the nearest one sporting a fox den.

The mother came to visit as he stood appreciating the view, and asked if they meant well. He assured her they did, and they parted amicably. She even offered to bring him breakfast, but he declined graciously, knowing that feeding a growing litter of five kits was hard enough as a single mother.

The eagle that came shortly afterwards was a little more brusque, its white head turning back and forth as it demanded to know why he was in the area and how long he intended to stay.

So Lucifer snapped his wings out wide, delighting in the bird's startled retreat, and promptly told it to piss off and mind its own business.

He turned and headed back to the tent, shaking his head.

_Nature._

What was the appeal again?

Listening to the world breathe?

Snorting at that, he knelt by the tent opening, looking to retrieve a smoke from his backpack.

Chloe was completely out, sprawled over the entire floor of the tent. Her arm was draped awkwardly over his backpack. There was no way to pull what he wanted out without disturbing her.

So he kissed her lovely round cheek with a smile, and grinned at the impressive snore that left her at the touch.

An Albanian field wench indeed.

"Right then," he murmured, straightening once more. "Breakfast?"

Before he'd moved in with Chloe, and she and Trixie then moved in with him - at the Cliff House, not Lux, which was still technically Maze's - Lucifer had been a liquid breakfast kind of Devil.

A couple of fingers of scotch or whiskey made a perfect start to the day. Lovely and smooth, bracing, and warming before it hit the stomach.

But since he'd moved in, he'd found himself needing something much more substantial in the mornings. Something with actual food in it, which turned into one of his new found delights.

Eggs in every form imaginable, bacon with just the right amount of crisp, strawberries and pancakes, the odd hashbrowns with onions and peppers and a dash of salt...

Glorious.

He'd cooked breakfast for other people before of course and his overnight guests had loved it, but it hadn't ever meant much to him.

Unfortunately they'd burned through the entire stock of the like over their three-day sex jaunt, and it appears all they had left even slightly breakfasty was granola bars and condensed milk.

He sat back from the cooler and sighed.

This would not do.

Chloe had lasted impressively - only passing out twice in the last day - and deserved something remarkable this morning.

And he was starving himself. Much more than normal. In fact, he felt a little weary overall, which was new.

He'd had week long orgies with no dent in his stamina, and here he was, three days straight with one woman, tired?

_What a worrying trend..._

Shaking his head to his thoughts, Lucifer closed the cooler and strung it up again, out of the reach of bears he didn't fear, then turned in place.

Civilization to the southeast, and their main destination to the northwest. They'd passed a gas station diner just outside of the last town, and that was probably his best bet.

The idea of buying bacon at a gas station made him grimace.

Awful. Again, this camping business, the allure was escaping him.

Readying to fly, he glanced down and promptly stopped.

He had no pants.

And no money.

And while he could probably flash his wings for a sacred offering of bacon and a carton of eggs, it would probably have real consequences down the road.

He smirked.

It would be greatly amusing though.

Ah, to be in the 80s again when no one had internet or smartphones and the ability to spread his naked angelic ass across the world in an instant.

Pants. Money. Then a quick flight to town and back before she ever stirred.

_Easy peasy._

* * *

_Btw, Lucifer's ability to speak any language plays a part here, in his recognition of the trees' welcome, a mother fox's concerns, and the belligerence of an eagle._

_I'm sure his trip to town will go just great._


	3. A Feeling of Home

_8 hours later..._

The frigid water snapped his mind up out of the dark, and he took in a gritty mouthful as a murky world passed in a blur before his rolling eyes. Everything moved too swiftly to track - he was tossed and tumbling in a space he didn't understand and couldn't seem to grasp, no matter how he struggled to do so. His lungs were burning. He grasped at another breath and swallowed yet another turbid mouthful as something slammed violently into his side, clipping his wing.

_Drowning_

Flailing, his arms caught the sudden bite of air, and he struggled to rise, his waterlogged wings beating uselessly, bending painfully, even as his side flared in the agony of another impact that sent him spinning.

_DROWNING_

Where was the surface? A thrashing limb broke the barrier of water to sky, he found something with his foot and kicked off, bursting to the surface and through, spewing water in a desperate attempt to pull in precious air.

Clarity at last - trees and rocks and a low sun spun through his vision as something hit one outstretched wing and sent him tumbling again. Gasping for breath, he managed one spare lungful mixed with the spray of the river's rapids, and then the water swallowed him again.

He tried to find the bottom, but his feet slipped against the slick carpet of algae and he tumbled again, with no sense of up or down and desperately needing one more breath.

He took it reflexively, and water rushed down his throat, closing it up and burning against his lungs.

Choking, he struggled to rise again, thrusting his limbs against anything he could find. His fingers brushed something slick - a log jutting towards him - but it slipped from his grasp, and another boulder clipped him in the shoulder, snapping a bone in his wing and forcing down another mouthful of water as he gasped.

Too much.

The world continued to churn and twist about him, but he could no longer fight it. His struggles ceased. Flowing with the current then, limbs adrift, his wings limply trailing, he endured the brush of rock and tree with no more struggle or care. The last few bubbles of air loosed from his parted lips, as his eyes grew unfocused and heavy.

There was a great, warming light...

...a feeling of home...

...and then a thousand pounds of furred muscle clamped down on his shoulder and dragged him to the surface.

The shock snapped him out of his drowned stupor - with a violent spasm he coughed up a mouthful of water before finding his head under the surface, then above it and under again, as whatever had a hold of him drew him to the shore.

It was large and strong, and as he struggled to breathe, it reseated its jaws over his shoulder and dragged him up on the pebbly riverbank.

It dropped him then, and smacked him onto his stomach, and then it was gone, and all he could see was grey river rock turned brown with the water spilling from his mouth.

It _burned._ Gasping, choking and shuddering, he lay on the rock, twisting with the pain of it, before finally laying still.

Air. Sweet air rushed down his throat.

_Glorious._

Closing his eyes, he promptly passed out.

* * *

_It's sometimes going to be a wee while before I post again, as I want to stretch this out while I finish the story. _

_Comments are always welcome, and thanks for reading!_


	4. No Grinning Angel

_4 hours earlier..._

Chloe surfaced slowly, and it took her a while to feel the frame of her body and remember where she was.

Groaning, she turned onto her side, expecting to press against Lucifer's warm body, as her own complained loudly.

But he wasn't there.

She raised her head, and only her head, because everything else wanted to stay right where it was.

"Lucifer?" she called, expecting movement outside, perhaps a descending zipper, or an answering call.

Nothing came.

That meant she had to get up, but she didn't want to get up, because her body clearly hated her.

Every single part of her body.

God, it had been so amazing, and overwhelming, and she could still feel and smell him everywhere.

She flopped her head down and tried to steel herself for movement.

_You can do this, Chloe._

_Just do it quick!_

And she did, twisting up until she was sitting, her head a little swimmy, her mouth dry with a distinct taste of _Lucifer. _

Mmm, she'd been naughty.

And it had been so good.

Grinning at herself, she shimmied to the front of the tent and pulled the zipper over and down.

Bright midday sun saturated everything, leaving flat shadows at the foot of the tent and the trees nearby. The campfire they'd started last night to cook was cold, the ashes white.

"Lucifer?"

She poked her head out and took a look around.

No sight of him. No bobbing mop of black hair coming up the hill, no grinning angel appearing behind a tree.

"Lucifer!?"

Her shout was swallowed by the trees.

Where was he?

Frowning, she dug around the nest they'd made for themselves and excavated her pants and a t-shirt. Pulling them on, she crawled out of the tent, in an absolutely graceful and effortless manner which led to her almost falling on her face.

Oh god, her body was _sore._

The sun felt wonderful though. She lifted her face to it and just stood for a moment, her eyes closed, smiling.

She was still expecting him, in some way, either a touch on her shoulder, or the crunch of pine needles from behind, or his voice slinking through the air towards her.

And when it didn't come, the sun lost a little of its warmth.

Frowning deeply, she started digging in the tent for clues, shortly finding that while he'd left his phone behind, as promised, he'd taken his wallet, and a pair of pants.

Why'd he take his wallet?

She walked away from the tent, and started down the slope a little until the land spread out before her. No movement that she could see. She stared through the trees in every other direction. Nothing but the occasional bird, and a chittering squirrel.

"Lucifer," she whispered. "Where are you?"

The cooler caught her eye then. It was definitely strung up a little higher than it had been, and at an angle.

So he'd hunted for food... and maybe, not liking what he found, went to go get some?

"Huh."

Well, that kind of made sense. He could fly, so the trip wouldn't have been a big deal.

She looked at the angle of the sun more closely. Directly overhead, so right around midday.

God, she'd overslept!

When had he left, though?

She had no idea.

And she was hungry.

Shrugging off her unease, Chloe lowered the cooler and grabbed a granola bar. Hoisting it up again, she returned to the site and sat on one of the stumps arranged around the dead fire.

She'd wait here.

He wouldn't be long.

She nodded to herself.

Then slowly frowned.

_Right?_


	5. Did I Fall?

_I made two updates last night, so make sure you catch both chapters :)_

* * *

_Now..._

His shivering woke him from the blank void he'd lost himself in, and he groaned with the waking as his brain pounded against the prison of its skull.

Coughing dislodged a fine mist of water against the rocks cold and hard against his cheek. He looked at the pattern of the water's stain on the rocks for a moment, before slowly taking in what lay beyond.

A river. Wide and moving very swiftly. Beyond that rose a wall of trees and distant, jagged mountains.

The sky was azure and deepening, the stars just beginning their play against the growing tapestry of night.

He was lying on his stomach, one hand curled in front of his face, the other by his side. One bedraggled wing was plastered to his back, the other lay folded awkwardly beneath him.

His body hurt terribly.

And he was cold.

Except at his side, where something deliciously warm was pressed.

He tried to turn towards it, wanting the warmth badly, but his head protested the motion and he curled about himself, holding his skull with a shaking hand.

The simple touch hurt. With a sharp gasp, he drew his hand away.

Something dark was smeared against his fingers.

The warmth at his back shifted, rumbling with a deep breath.

Eyes widening, he rolled himself away, freeing his wing and grasping at his head again as the pain lanced through it like a sword.

A very large, shaggily-furred lump sat on the river rock, against the deeply dark backdrop of thick forest.

A part of the shaggy lump turned, and two small wide-set eyes - brown and sparkling in the star light - blinked at him.

_"Greetings,"_ it said, in a language of heavy breaths and guttural utterances he'd never before used.

Of course, being who he was, he could speak it.

_"Greetings to you,"_ he rumbled back, and then turned to look about himself, suddenly desperate for water. A shallow pool lay nearby. Stooping, he drew some up and drank it from his hand. The act made his head throb awfully, and he almost vomited what he'd taken in.

_"How do you feel?"_ the beast asked.

He looked back at it. _"Not well."_ Then he frowned at a sudden flicker of memory. Of being dragged from the water by strong jaws.

Looking down at his shoulder, wincing at the thundering at his temples, he noticed the splotchy arc of bruises there. His gaze rose to the beast again. _"You rescued me?"_

The creature gave a wuff of affirmation. _"You are a winged one. I could not let you drown."_

Nodding, he gave the beast a small smile. _"Thank you. I would not have survived without your help."_

It seemed happy at that, and sat back on its large rear and short flat-footed legs. It was a very round creature, and immensely muscled, particularly around the shoulders. Likely for digging, for its claws were massive.

His Father's creations never ceased to amaze.

The thought brought another stabbing pain to his head.

And a hateful spite to his heart.

_"How did you get in the river?"_

The question pulled him back from his body's pains. Opening his mouth to answer, he found himself with nothing to say.

He closed his mouth and stared at the wild rapids.

How had he ended up there?

Why did it hurt to think? Grunting, he lowered his head to his hand and noticed the dark stain again. It smelled like blood. His own. Gingerly he felt for the edges of the wound - a long straight furrow gouging his temple and back, slick with blood.

_"Did you fall in? I have seen squirrels do that while trying to cross a fallen tree. I eat them when I find them downstream."_

Frowning, he shivered again, a motion that passed through his wings, shaking some of the dampness free and setting his teeth grinding through the pain.

The creature's question stuck with him.

_Did I fall?_

He looked down at himself, in dark pants, covered in bruises and cuts. Something at his side bled - another furrow, but much deeper. When he cupped his hand against the wound it stung.

Wounds from battle?

He looked back up at the beast and felt the fire in his eyes, burning.

Of course.

_Michael._

A diffuse red glow filled the space and sparkled in the creatures's gaze.

It made sense now.

_"I did fall, yes,"_ he finally answered, in as cold a tone as the beast's tongue allowed. Needing warmth and a sense of safety, he curled his great wings about himself, wincing as the ends of the broken bone above the wing's wrist ground together. Gingerly finding the spot, he held it, willing it to heal.

_"Oh?"_ The creature's great head turned upstream. _"From a tree? Like the squirrels I ate?"_

_"No."_ He felt a rush of dark bitterness.

_"From Heaven."_


	6. HNTN4BF

_Thanks for the review! They honestly make my day._

_Apologies for the little bit of bouncing back and forth we're doing time-wise here. But hell, if The Witcher can do it, so can I. _

_At least I'm not flip flopping decades... _

_(PS, if you haven't watched The Witcher, in this Dark Time of Lucifer Famine, you're missing out ;)_

* * *

_3 hours earlier..._

When Chloe made it back to the trailhead, her heart was pounding. Not just from exertion, because she'd really pushed herself hiking out, but from panic.

No Lucifer.

It'd been six hours now and he hadn't returned to the campsite, she hadn't seen him on the trail, and he wasn't in the car, in some vain protest at roughing it.

He was just _gone._

This wasn't like him.

Something was wrong, she could _feel_ it, and she had no idea where to start to find out what.

If he'd left for food, then he'd headed to the nearest town. That's where she needed to go.

She pulled her phone up. She'd left the tent, the cooler, and his gear at the campsite, just in case he came back. Of course she'd left his phone too, but she still didn't have any bars on her own phone for him to reach her anyway.

If only he'd taken his cell. If only she hadn't made that stupid deal with him, she could call or track him once she got to town!

But no, she had to make some dumbass deal, for sex, because of course.

_Typical Lucifer!_

Her fear was making her angry. She hated that.

Shaking her head to it, she stomped the last few yards to her car, briefly taking in the dark, rusted SUV parked next to her own.

It was covered in stickers, and a few made her smile, despite her worries.

There was a white silhouette of a tall shaggy man, with the words 'Gone Squatchin'. A couple of X-Files logos, alien heads, and an emphatic 'I BELIEVE'. A bunch of national and state park passes going back years, NRA membership decals, and another sticker that caught her eye on the side as she dumped her backpack into her own car:

_Official Sasquatch Hunting License_

She snorted.

God, people were weird.

Starting the car, she eased out of the spot, her eye caught again by the mass of ridiculous stickers.

The license plate below them made her pause.

**HNTN4BF**

She smirked.

Were they really roaming around the woods with guns trying to hunt Bigfoot?

That was hilarious.

The smirk slowly fell flat.

She'd heard some cracks that might have been gunshots while she'd been hiking. Certainly nothing high powered though - maybe a .22?

Hunting a giant ape guy with a .22?

Wasn't that a little... optimistic?

Chloe frowned, the world narrowing to that license plate as her car idled.

What if... they saw something else instead? Something that defied explanation?

_Like__... a guy with wings?_

Her skin grew cold.

What if... they saw Lucifer flying, and they shot at him?

_What if they shot him out of the sky?!_

She suddenly felt sick.

Was it reasonable? Did it make sense? Was she being ridiculous?!

She didn't like this 'what if' at all. But he'd been gone too long now, and it wasn't something he would do to her if everything was okay.

She needed help, NOW.

Lifting her hands together, Chloe began to pray.


	7. Soggy Nest of Feathers

_I posted a chapter before this one tonight, so be sure to catch both. I really need to post more slowly or I'll catch up before I've finished writing... augh._

_If you're enjoying this, let me know ;) I am greatly saddened by the sound of crickets..._

* * *

_Now..._

Another shudder passed through him. He closed his wings more tightly, lowering his head to his knees, carefully avoiding the gash at his temple.

_"You are not well,"_ the furred creature said.

_"No, I am not."_ He sighed. _"I do not understand."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I do not get sick. Another of my kind can wound me, but I should have healed from this by now."_

The beast stood to all fours, its bulk somewhat intimidating.

_"Perhaps it is because you fell, from the place you call Heaven?"_ Its jowls quivered as it spoke and breathed, revealing an impressive number of teeth. _"Is it far, this Heaven?"_

He didn't lift his head, and stared towards the rising moon. _"It is, in one sense, yes."_

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as his heart clenched.

He would never be allowed back. The gates of Heaven were forever closed to him now.

That hurt. Closing his eyes, he tried to burrow more deeply into the soggy nest of feathers he'd made for himself, and shivered again.

_"What is your name?"_ the beast asked. _"I have heard your kind have them. The other two legs do too."_

That stirred his interest. Raising his head he stared at the beast.

_"I am..."_ There was no equivalent of his name in the beast's tongue, so he had to use his own.

**Samael **

_"What two legs are you talking about?"_

The creature bared its teeth. _"Never speak that name again. I do not like it. It is too loud."_

With a small shrug, Samael returned his head to his knees. A wave of dizziness washed over him.

_"They look like you,"_ the furry creature continued, _"but are wingless and weak."_

He smirked against his knee. _"They survived then? I am glad to hear it. I liked the first of them. We had sex. A lot of sex. First time for me. For all three of us. I would like to do so again. If you see another two legs you must tell me so I can have more sex."_

_"You sound strange now."_

Blinking against a new wave of dizziness, Samael looked up at the creature, surprised to find another of the same exact beast standing beside it.

Slowly the two creatures resolved into one.

Was that bad? That seemed a bad thing.

_"What is your name, friend?"_ he asked, his voice slurring.

_"I am me, the bear."_

Nodding was a mistake. Samael grasped at his head as everything lurched sideways.

_"Me-The-Bear, do you have anything to eat? I am... I think I need..."_

Something compelled him to stand, most suddenly. An urgent instinct to outrun something at that moment that his logical mind hadn't quite intercepted as unnecessary.

Samael lurched to his feet as the bear watched, groaned something that might have been a question, then took a clumsy step towards the forest and keeled over.

He did not move again.

The bear's breath rumbled out slowly.

Were all winged ones this odd?

He lifted his great head to stare along the rapids, then to the falls upstream, and back as the river twisted its way through the forest, the trees crowding it thickly on both sides.

A scent reached him on the breeze. Chemicals and sweat. Metal and oil.

_Men. _

Men were coming with guns.

He looked down at the winged one. He'd spent this much time protecting it. It seemed a shame to leave it here.

Perhaps the Tall One would know what to do with it?

Taking the thing's arm in his mouth, the bear pressed against the winged one's body, and pulled the creature up and over his furred back. One wing trailed oddly, but there was little to be done about that.

Satisfied that the creature wouldn't fall off, the bear carried his charge into the darkness of the woods.


	8. My Idiot Brother

When Amenadiel swooped down from the sky, his great wings whipping the air around Chloe like a storm, she had to do a double take.

Then, despite the fear and worry that had only built over the last two hours as she'd rushed into town, grabbing food to shove in her mouth and asking everywhere for Lucifer, she burst into laughter.

"What?" Amenadiel asked as he stepped gently to the ground, adjusting the bright green pack strapped to his chest, filled with a happily gurgling baby.

"You brought Charlie?!"

He winced.

"Yeah... Girl's night out and I didn't want to interrupt. No sitter."

Chloe smirked.

Linda and Amenadiel hadn't used a sitter since Charlie had been kidnapped by a demonically-possessed fake zombie night nurse.

She blinked at her own thought.

_How had life gotten so weird?_

"Besides, he loves flying. Especially when I go really fast. Don't you?" He clasped his son's little hand and wobbled it as Charlie squirmed in delight. "Yes, you do!"

Chloe smiled, caught up in their joy, then quickly shook her head.

"But Amenadiel, there are people with guns involved... I think. What if they decide to shoot at you?"

"Oh, they can't hurt us, can they Charlie?" He looked up from his son with a smile. "He takes after the celestial side of the family, Chloe. We only found out last week when he pulled a pot off the stove. Nothing hurt, no burn. Poor Linda was beside herself."

"Oh," Chloe said, without a clue as to what to say next.

"Which prompts the question - why do you think Lucifer is hurt?"

Chloe felt a sudden rush of tears, but held them back. "Because I _feel_ like something is wrong. He would have shown up by now if he was fine, Amenadiel."

"He hates camping, Chloe - are you sure he's not back in town, seated at a bar?"

"I already checked. And it's not like before - he knows I get worried. Besides... I think he was... enjoying the... um... _camping_ we'd just... done."

Amenadiel gave her a confused look.

"Where's your campsite?" he finally asked.

She brought up the map she'd downloaded to her phone, then pointed at the trees. "Directly that way, just over eight miles away."

"Alright, and the town?"

She turned her phone slightly and pointed again. "That way, 26 miles. There's a gas station a little closer, about 15 miles."

He nodded. "Now, how far from you does Lucifer need to be to be invulnerable again?

Chloe swallowed. "I... I don't know. He's been with me so much lately, he's always been..."

"Mortal?"

She nodded numbly, then looked up at him with searching eyes.

"Is this... my fault?"

Amenadiel stood as close as he could with a baby strapped to his chest and kissed her temple. "No, Chloe," he said softly. "My idiot brother is just being an idiot. I'm going to fly the path he took now."

"Oh, God, please be careful!"

"I will. No one will see us."

When she nodded, her eyes troubled and downcast, he squeezed her arm comfortingly.

"He's fine, Chloe. We'll find him. What trouble could he have gotten into on a camping trip?"

* * *

_These chapters are pretty short, I realize. They get longer. XD_

_Hope you're enjoying the story. :) Let me know with a comment if you can!_


	9. A Little More Bulletproof

_I posted a chapter before this one tonight, be sure to read that first ;)_

* * *

The two men moved with an overburdened, awkwardly-armed grace, over the rocks and boulders leading to the lip of the waterfall. The beams of their flashlights skittered back and forth from the water to their feet to their next likely step.

The man in the front, generously proportioned, with a pair of night vision goggles propped on his head, made a sound not unlike a groan of pain.

"I can't believe I shot an angel."

The other man, lankier and carrying two backpacks, with a long knife at his hip, sighed.

"For the last time Steve, it wasn't an angel."

"It was a guy with big white wings, Art," Steve shot back, flicking his beam into his friends face. "That is the literal definition of an angel, and I shot him and I'm going to Hell."

"Steve. You can't go to Hell, because it doesn't exist. Neither does Heaven, or angels or devils or gods or any of that crap."

"Yes, great, I know you're a heathenous atheist, dipshit. But, seriously, how can you be, after seeing that?!"

"Because he bled when you shot him, dumbass. If he was really a _messenger of God,_" Art framed the words with air quotes, "dontcha think he might have been a little more bulletproof?"

When Steve didn't reply immediately, Art continued, "he was a cryptid, end of story. Like... an incubus or something."

Steve snorted. "Incubi have devil wings, stupid, and they're from Hell."

"I know that-"

"You don't, otherwise you wouldn't have said it."

"Fine, a harpy."

"Harpies," Steve said, raising a hand as if delivering a lecture, "are ugly women with the bodies and talons of birds. He look like a lady to you?"

Art glowered at him.

It'd been a mistake, lending Steve that Monster Manual when they were seven.

"Those weird bird women have to reproduce somehow."

With a sigh, Art threw an arm up at his friend. "The guy had a bag of groceries, Steve! I mean, c'mon! Unless there's some fancy new biblical Uber we don't know about he wasn't an angel!"

Steve was silent for a moment, and the deep hooting of an owl filled the space over the rush of the falling water.

"He did sound a bit funny," Steve conceded. "When I accidentally shot him that first time - when he was standing in front of us asking for directions?"

"Yeah, he sounded English."

"Right, but that wasn't the problem - England is a very proper place and it's a very dignified accent. Angels should sound dignified and proper."

"Wow."

"Shut up, Art. I'm trying to say that I thought he'd be all," he stood up straight and adopted a terrible British accent, 'And lo, do not shoot!' or 'And lo, I bring glad tidings from whatever's, but he didn't."

"No, he said 'Fuck!' and took off."

Steve nodded vigorously. "Yeah - he said fuck! Wasn't that weird? Angels can't say fuck!"

"Or bollocks, which he also said. Remember how surprised he was too? Like right after you shot him, which I still don't get, by the way."

"A man with wings landed in front of us, Art - huge wings, flapping everywhere. I had the gun up already - it was a reflex."

"Right. But then you shot him three more times."

"Only after he flew away," Steve mumbled, then winced. "I dunno, I didn't want him to leave and something in my brain just clicked on - you know, when we used to hunt geese? It was like we'd just flushed one out."

"Right. He turned into a giant goose in your head and you shot him out of the sky." Art snorted. "Great job."

"Oh God. I really did. He fell like a damned stone."

"He wasn't an angel, Steve, don't loop back to that again or I'll shoot _you._"

"Nah, I'm thinking you're right. I just wish I hadn't fired at him."

"Well, if we find him and he's not dead, you can apologize and hand him back his groceries, before we grab him and get famous. If he is dead, we'll hike out of here with his body and sell it for a shit-ton of money."

"And everyone in the world will hate me."

Art frowned. "Why?"

"Because I shot and killed an _angel,_" Steve moaned.

With a loud curse, Art picked up a rock and threw it at his friend.

* * *

_I love these idiots. _

_If you're enjoying my story, let me know with a comment :)_


	10. Be Okay

Chloe was pacing in complete darkness when Amenadiel returned, and started wringing her hands when he lowered beside her gently.

Because Amenadiel was frowning.

Charlie was getting fussy, squirming in his pack. Unclasping the buckles, Amenadiel pulled him out and grabbed a bottle from a side pocket before cradling his son and feeding him.

But his enormous tawny wings were still out while he did so. The sight of a celestial angel - even one dressed in jeans and a jacket - holding and feeding a baby, wiped every single thought from Chloe's mind.

She simply stared for a moment, her mouth parted softly.

Then she shook her head sharply at herself as her fears returned in strength.

Was Amenadiel frowning because of Charlie or because of Lucifer?

"So?"

"He hasn't returned to your site," Amenadiel murmured, tilting the bottle as Charlie drank it down quickly.

"Dammit." She resumed pacing, walking back and forth behind the car with the license plate that had worried her so much. "Dammit!"

"I did the whole flight, back and forth, twice. Even stepped into a couple of bars in town. I didn't see anything."

Amenadiel wouldn't meet her eye. Why?

"You sound worried."

The frown deepened, and he tenderly lifted his son to his shoulder to burp him as he tucked the bottle away. "I'm a little concerned."

"Oh my god," Chloe groaned, grasping her head as she paced. "I feel useless! I can't do anything! I have no cell service, no way to track whoever belongs to this car, and Lucifer's somewhere in there, possibly hurt," she pointed at the wall of trees and the trailhead plastered with notices before them, "in a park the size of Los Angeles!"

There was a click of plastic buckles, and Amenadiel rested a warm hand on her shoulder as he adjusted his son's pack against his chest.

"I have to take Charlie back, Chloe, but I'm going to return with someone who can find anyone, okay?"

She nodded, feeling tears threatening again, but she rubbed at her temple to stop them. "Okay. I'll wait here."

"Do you have enough food and water?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll wait. Just... don't take too long?"

He smiled. "I won't."

"Bye Charlie," she murmured, trying to muster a smile of her own, before they were in the air, and gone.

She turned towards the dark mouth of the trailhead.

The urge was strong to grab her gun and head in. To find him by following her gut.

But it was really dark, and she said she'd wait.

She didn't want to wait.

Perhaps she could start in now, maybe...

Chloe sighed, and shook her head at herself.

No. She'd just get lost herself. And he was probably off trail which would make it even more impossible.

_What if he's dying right now?_

"Oh, shut up."

_What if he's dead?_

"Oh God." She steepled her hands in front of her mouth and tried to do something she'd attempted a few times now.

_Lucifer, please answer me. Where are you? I can't find you and I'm really worried. I need you to be okay. Please._

Then she waited, as the moon finally breached the trees to her right, illuminating everything in pale blue light.

But no answer came.

She stared up at that moon, and sighed.

"Lucifer, where _are_ you?"

* * *

_Thanks for the comments/reviews! I love hearing from readers :)_

_Sorry about the short update - the next chapter is much, much longer. I'll likely post it tomorrow._

_It gives a glimpse of a certain major event in Lucifer's life... aaaand features a rather large creature... o.O_


	11. Try To Avoid Death

"Drink."

Samael stirred slowly, aware of something pressing against his lips. Everything felt too distant and too heavy to do anything much about it.

"Open your mouth. Drink."

He could manage an open mouth surely?

And he was so very thirsty.

He tried, managing a little, though his jaw felt locked in place. He was still shivering too, though it did not feel cold here?

Where was here?

He was in the midst of prising his eyes open when something awful came pouring down his throat.

He coughed it up with a grimace, and spoke in the language he'd just heard.

"Terrible... what...?"

"Drink it, or you will die."

"W-What?"

"You are very sick. The water made you so, and the wound in your head is stealing your sense." The vessel, with a rough, round edge that felt like wood, was pressed firmly against his lips again. "Drink."

Frowning, he opened his eyes to complete darkness.

"Where...?"

"You are being difficult. I am pouring this down your throat now."

Strong calloused fingers grasped his jaw and pulled it open.

Grunting, he tried to pull the hand away, but his limbs were too slow. The fluid came rushing down his throat, burning as it went.

He swallowed some and spat a lot back up, before the fingers came once more, pulling his jaw down before the horrid drink was poured in again.

"Gah," he managed after swallowing another mouthful. It tasted of acidic dirt and bitter tannin, with something horribly sour binding the whole concoction together. "That is... so... awful... please stop..."

"Yes. That will do. You will rest now."

"Where am I? Who are... I..."

Everything began to feel quite muzzy, and his limbs grew even more distant. "What.. in that... drinn.."

A hand pressed gently against his head. A very large hand. The pressure made him feel as if he were falling.

"Rest."

The world grew muffled and small.

He dreamed.

Of a woman. The lightest blue eyes stared up at him, wide and full of warmth, the fine skin about them crinkling with a smile. Such a radiant smile, framed by full lips and a delicate jawline that he cupped in his palm. Her skin was gloriously soft and warm, and her hair fell about her face in waves of blonde and chestnut.

He was flying, his great white wings catching a warm updraft as he held her in his arms, and the sun was setting before them, turning the clouds bright gold. Behind, the sky was cloaked in deepening purples and blues.

She loved him. He knew this. And he loved her back so much he felt breathless.

But he did not know her name.

_Who are you?_ he tried to ask, but no sound left him.

He tried harder.

"Who... are..."

His voice was muffled and weak, and he stirred with it, his eyes drifting open then closing again.

He sank.

To a war.

The armored foot caught him square in the chest, and the sword was torn free of his stomach with a gout of dark blood.

He teetered for a moment that stretched to a millennia. Knowing what this moment meant as the other angels watched on - Amenadiel bloodied and snarling, Remiel's face barely concealing her glee at ending one of his soldiers. Azrael turning from him, her eyes closing in sorrow. Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, Maalik, Nuriel... all standing in judgement.

And his Father's presence - the light over all things, shouting at him in a rage, as his mother watched on.

**BEGONE**

And with a vicious grin, Michael pushed him with an outstretched finger, sending him over the edge of the portal out of Heaven.

He Fell.

It was agony. The fires that had always been his to command turned inward, consuming him as he fell through each dimension - his body a falling star to the early people of Earth and others of a multitude of realms.

He Fell until the realm of Hell's gate opened like a wound beneath him, and burning still, his wings long gone, his skin charred, his eyes fiery pits, he slammed into the ground of its realm with the force of a splitting atom.

He did not die.

But he was broken.

He lingered, shattered and smoking still for a time that had no definition, for Hell was timeless.

He wished to die. But instead, he grew stronger. Enough to raise his head as one of the Lilim neared. Female, slender, born for battle and eager for pain. She devoured his pain, and returned his strength further. And with her help he finally stood, and spread new wings and rose to claim the realm as his own.

She was his soldier, and willing mate when his pain sought expression in dark lusts. She took it all, and returned it as much, and with her he grew harder and sharper than he had ever been. He embraced his role completely and reveled in the meting of punishment, and his heart grew harder still. Through it all, she accepted and supported him.

But her name was lost to him as well.

"Wake up now," she said, in a voice that didn't suit her at all.

_What?_

"Wake up!" came the voice again, and the strength of it snapped him from nightmare.

Arms were bound over his chest and head, thickly furred and incredibly strong. His body had been fighting - he could feel the lingering energy of the battle just under his skin, and he bucked against his sudden prison, roaring for his freedom.

"STOP! You are SAFE! BE CALM!"

The words somehow reached him through his pain, and he slowed, finally sinking back in exhaustion.

Everything was dark.

"I cannot see," he murmured, still bound by the arms of his caretaker.

The arms slowly retreated, and the same large hand, the palms calloused and warm, pressed against his head.

Light streamed in as something green was pulled away. He blinked furiously, feeling suddenly raw and exposed. He caught a glimpse of stone above, the fine crystalline facets within sparkling in flickering firelight.

A massive dark hand, framed by fur at the wrist loomed into view.

He jerked from it instinctively, backing his upper body up against the stone wall beside him as the massive creature was revealed.

Very tall, very muscular. Built like a man but longer of arm and thicker about the brow. Every part covered in thick fur, save for the face and the hands, which drew back quickly, palms raised.

The creatures's strange mouth opened - not like a man's at all - and it spoke, revealing impressive canines yellowed with age.

"I will not harm you," it said, in a language of grunts and pops.

Samael blinked at it, not quite trusting its words. But from it came a great feeling of peace and calm, and he found himself relaxing despite his mistrust.

He felt better, too. No longer shivering, and the pounding at his head had lessened.

The creature was kneeling beside him, massive even on its knees. Flickering beyond it was a large fire fueled by jaggedly torn timbers. Furs and dried plants and simple dishes of wood circled the fire, and a passageway led off to the right. Dried meat hung from branches set in notches in the stone walls and the bones of multiple species lay in scattered piles about the room.

Everything smelled absolutely foul, and the creature seemed to be the source of it.

"Your aroma is disturbing."

The creature showed its generous array of teeth.

"Thank you," it said, in what sounded like pride.

Samael looked down at himself. The wound in his side was covered in leaves, the deeper cuts on his chest and legs dabbed with some kind of dirt. Curious, he reached to check the wound at his head, but the creature stopped him with a large hand.

He frowned back at the massive hairy man.

"What are you?"

The thing sat back on its legs.

"I am the Guardian, though I have many names. The ones in the forest call me the Tall One. The ones who infest this world call me Sasquatch, Doolagahi, Yeren, Mande Burung, Tso'apittse, Kakundak, Yeti-"

"You can stop now. I understand, many names."

"You are rude."

Samael glowered at the creature. "Currently, yes. Would you like to know why?"

"No. I am also called Bigfoot here because the people who find my tracks are smaller than I and stupid."

Samael smirked. "Well, you know what they say about _big feet_."

The Guardian frowned.

"What do they say?"

The smirk slowly fell. Confusion swiftly replaced Samael's mirth.

"I... do not know. I do not know why I said that."

Sasquatch nodded and tapped a thick finger against its temple. "Your sense is damaged."

Frowning, Samael reached for the wound on his head again.

The Guardian stopped him.

"Let it heal."

He yanked his arm free of the thing's grasp, frustrated and disturbed. "It should _be_ healed," he snapped. "I should not be this sick! I should not be this..."

He did not want to say the word, but it bubbled up in his mind regardless.

_Vulnerable_

"Mortal?"

That word was even more devastating. He stared at the creature, his expression frozen. It could not be true. He did not want it to be true.

But it very clearly was.

The look he gave the creature was imploring. "Is this part of my Father's punishment? To exile me to this place and make me live out a mortal life?"

The Guardian shrugged. "How would I know? I will only say that you may know the reason yourself, but the sense of it is lost. It will come back to you in time, but I do not know when."

Releasing a long sigh, Samael looked about the creature's dwelling.

"How did I get here?" he asked, frowning. "I was on a riverbank? Did Me-The-Bear bring me to you?"

"Yes. You collapsed. The bear knew what you were and did not want to leave you for anything else to eat."

He nodded. "I should thank him. He saved my life, loathe as I am to think it was under threat."

The Sasquatch smiled. "Yes. You can thank him later. First, you need to eat. I have this to offer."

Turning from him, the hairy man reached towards the campfire and pulled up a large steaming bowl roughly carved of wood.

It smelled _terrible._

Samael stared at the surface as it neared. Green, lumpy, and randomly dotted with the legs and shells of numerous invertebrates.

He placed a finger on the edge of the bowl as it grew closer, and pressed it resolutely back.

"No."

The Guardian pressed it forward again with an encouraging smile. "It is good for you. Eat."

Samael shook his head firmly.

There was no way in any realm that he was eating _that._

"There is snake and weasel meat in this," the Sasquatch said, poking his finger into the soup and twirling it around. He pulled up something long and fat. "Worms and crickets. Very good for healing."

Samael watched the creature pull its finger from the meal meant for him and suck it happily. Something in his gut twisted.

"If you do not stop talking I am going to vomit all over you."

"Rudeness again," the creature grunted. "I offer you my best food and you insult me."

"Yes. Because your best food is the stuff of nightmare."

With a hard sigh, the creature opened its mouth, lifted the bowl, and chugged the entire thing at once. Something with many legs got caught over its lips, and it slurped it up quickly with a fat, dark tongue.

"Mmm... _good_."

Samael pulled his horrified gaze from the Guardian's mouth and looked about the place for anything else he might eat. He _was_ hungry - his stomach growled painfully, but he could see nothing but gnawed bones, plants he had no interest in, and strips of unidentified meat hunted by flies.

His mind wandered to more palatable suggestions.

_Fillet mignon paired with an old-vine Zinfandel? Baked salmon with a squeeze of lemon chased down with a Chilean Chardonnay?_

His mouth watered, but he could not conjure up any image of what he was thinking of.

"Do you have..." he started to say, hopefully, then stopped. The creature's language did not allow for the first, but the second had an equivalent. "Salmon?"

The Guardian's brow furrowed, its dark expressive eyes lowering thoughtfully.

"That is more the bear's meal, but... perhaps..."

Slowly it stood, its body taking some time to rise, and Samael tried not to be intimidated by the size and bulk of it when it was finished.

"You are very large," he murmured, without really meaning to.

"Big," the thing said, pointing at its lower limb with no small amount of irritation, "foot." It snorted then and walked to the far side of the room, where it pawed its way through the hanging meat.

"Nevermind," Samael called, starting to feel sick. "I regret asking."

"Ah! Here!" the guardian said brightly, and threw something his way.

The uncooked and slightly rotten body of a silver-scaled creature landed squarely in Samael's lap.

"No!" he yelled, swatting it off of himself, and twisting to stand. "No, I am leaving! I will not endure this a moment longer!"

"But... you are not yet recovered."

The room swam in a fascinating way, but Samael was not to be deterred - grasping the nearest object to steady himself and recoiling once he realized it was a large skull, he gathered himself and took slow, careful steps to the passageway.

The Guardian loomed in his vision and placed two strong hands atop his shoulders. The weight almost bore him to his knees.

"There are people out there hunting you, light-bringer. You should stay until you are well."

Samael looked up at an impossible angle, biting back a swift rush of dizziness, and frowned at the creature.

"Light-bringer?" he murmured. He blinked rapidly - something about that phrase meant something, but he could not work out what. His head began to ache and he shook the thoughts away. "I thank you for your aid, but I cannot stay and breathe your stench a moment longer."

The Guardian shrugged. "Your sense is broken, winged one. But I will not stand in your way." It pulled its hands from Samael's shoulders. "Go then. Try to avoid death. I fear it still seeks you."

"Very helpful," Samael muttered, pushing past the creature and grasping for the passage walls. "Try to avoid death. What _profound_ advice."

The Sasquatch humphed, crossing its massive arms.

And Samael only barely caught what it said under its breath as he pushed forward, seeking the pale light of day at the tunnel's end and the sweet rush of non-fouled air it promised.

_"I am glad to see the back of you, you whining cretin."_

He glowered at the growing circle of light.

"I heard that!"

* * *

_I certainly didn't plan to have Bigfoot show up in this fic, btw. I was very happy when he did, not going to lie. :D He's not a major part of this story either, he just happened to be there when Samael/Lucifer needed a hand. __Things get much more serious (well, after one more slightly silly chapter) from here on in. ;)_

_Very serious._

_PS: If you're enjoying the story, hating it, want to share a terribly secret secret or just have a cat that likes to walk on your keyboard, please leave a comment. ;)_


	12. High School Nerd

"I do not understand."

The woman with the eagle wings, that Chloe hadn't been able to tear her eyes from, turned from the forest's edge to Amenadiel. The crisp light of the morning was doing very little to warm the woman's features.

"I do not sense him, still. Did he return to Hell?"

Chloe's heart plummeted.

_Oh, God, please don't even suggest that._

She couldn't handle it. Especially not after a night of little sleep, waiting as the angelic siblings in front of her had flown back and forth scouting the entire damn park.

Amenadiel opened his mouth to speak, but the shorter girl with the dark bob haircut spoke instead.

_Azrael, that was her name, right?_

"No, Remiel, he isn't in Hell. He's on Earth," Azrael said in a voice that sounded like it belonged to some high school nerd more than an angel of death. The latter being something that Chloe still hadn't wrapped her brain around.

_The person in front of me takes the souls of dead people to Heaven._

_Shouldn't she have a scythe?_

Azrael looked at her with a smirk. "I did that for a while but it bugged people out, so I switched it up. High School Nerd is working for me at the moment - don't judge."

Chloe cringed inwardly. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry, I didn't know you could..."

"Oh, yeah, sis here reads minds," Amenadiel said with a smile. "Probably should have mentioned that."

Azrael grinned. "Anyway, like I said before, I was pulled to him recently when he was drowning, but-"

Chloe's eyes bulged. "WHAT?!"

Amenadiel winced and shook his head slowly at his sister. "I didn't share that with her Ray, that's not... helpful."

"He was DROWNING?!"

"For this very reason, sis," Amenadiel murmured, rubbing his temples.

Chloe looked back and forth between them, her mouth wide with shock, her heart slamming against her ribcage. "What are you talking about?! WHEN?! Is he okay?!"

Azrael nodded. "He didn't totally die, and I haven't felt a tug since, so for now he seems to be okay."

"Oh my God," Chloe moaned, clasping her hands to her head. "I've been sitting in my car while he's been _dying?_"

The angel of death shook her head quickly. "Oh no, this was early last night. Like probably 6:12pm Pacific time?" She brought a finger up and started gesturing as if she were doing math, then nodded. "Think I did that right. Someone must have helped him."

"Who?!"

Azrael shrugged. "Don't know. I think this means he's near water though - but we've followed every river."

"None of this matters," Remiel said in a cold voice, "because I should be able to feel Lucifer here, and I do not."

She turned her gaze to Chloe. Of all of the angels Chloe had met at this point, which was honestly everyone here plus Lucifer, Remiel was the most... inhuman.

Was that too harsh?

"You waste energy with pointless emoting," Remiel said directly to her.

_Nope. Inhuman was absolutely fucking fair._

A snort made her look from Remiel to Azrael, who gave her a wink.

_Oh geez. Please stop reading my mind. Please find Lucifer._

"We will," Azrael answered, with a sincere smile.

"Ray, what did you see when you were called to him?" Amenadiel asked.

Azrael squinted and looked skyward. "Um. He was drifting in very wild water. Few more seconds and I would have had him."

Chloe made a small sound, covering her mouth.

Shooting a stern look at his sister, Amenadiel came to Chloe and pulled her into a hug. "He's okay, Chloe. He's going to be okay."

"We have to find him right now. Please," she murmured into his chest.

"Oh! His head was bleeding," Azrael said abruptly. "His side too. Lots of cuts, but, you know, rocks."

"His head?" Chloe mumbled. "Badly?"

Azrael shrugged. "Wasn't deep - a long furrow from a bullet."

"Azrael," Amenadiel snapped, clasping Chloe closer. "This does not help her!"

Chloe's mind was roiling with yet another awful detail of Lucifer's suffering, but something important about the nature of the wound clicked into place.

"Wait, no that's helpful..." Pushing away from Amenadiel gently, she focused on Remiel. "How does her tracking work?"

The angel stared down at her without blinking.

"Tracking is an inadequate word to describe my talent."

Chloe stepped into her space, and stabbed a finger at her chest angrily. "I don't give a shit about using the right word, lady. How does it work?"

Remiel blinked and took a small step back. "Did you hear how she addressed me?"

"Remy." Amenadiel's voice was low.

Her lips set in an irritated line, Remiel stared down at Chloe. "I sense their soul. I sense their essence on this plane. Who they are. I do not spend my time peering at misplaced dirt."

Chloe turned her back on the woman to face Azrael and Amenadiel. "What if... he's not himself?"

Amenadiel frowned. "What do you mean?"

She tapped her temple. "Head wound. Concussion at the very least, but what if its done more than that? What if he doesn't remember _who_ he is? Like, he doesn't know he's _Lucifer_ anymore?"

An aggravated snort came from behind her. "I do not sense people by their memories, human."

Chloe glared back at her. "No, but don't angels 'self-actualize'? Couldn't he change his nature, or the essence of who he was - what you sense - if he believed he was someone else? He hasn't answered any of our prayers - maybe that's because he's not Lucifer anymore?"

Remiel's gaze grew thoughtful. "Who, then?"

That's where Chloe ran out of steam, and she gave a little half-shrug. "I don't know. I mean, he could think he was anyone, or nobody. That wasn't very helpful actually, dammit."

Amenadiel took her arm in a firm grip, and when he spoke, it was directed at Remiel. "Samael."

His sister frowned, but her gaze grew distant and searching. Then her eyes shot wide open. "Yes! Yes, he is here!"

Chloe's heart jumped as Amenadiel grabbed her in a fierce hug. "What, that worked?" she mumbled, finding herself a little squashed.

"You're amazing, Chloe!" he said, and he pulled her up into his arms as his wings unfurled.

"Whoa! Wait, we're flying? You know where he is?" She directed the last at Remiel, who gave her the smallest of smiles and nodded.

"I know a general direction now, and as we get closer I will narrow that to his exact location. Azrael?"

The angel of death gave a small smile, a short nod, and spread her black wings wide.

And a moment later, they were airborne.

* * *

_I was soooooo excited to see Azrael pop up in this story :) While she appeared in a sort of non-canon episode lumped in at the end of Season 3, and got a lot of flack for being weird, I really enjoyed her character. I liked the idea of this incredibly powerful, sometimes foreboding, almost omniscient celestial looking like a goofy kid, and loved that she was friends with Ella, who is, in her own right, such a lovely character. (btw, I love commas, I eat them for breakfast)_

_Remiel too, was interesting, and she plays a very key part in something that's about to happen soon. Everything changes rather dramatically at that point._

_PS: I would have love to have seen this many of the angelic siblings taking off in flight with Chloe. :)_

_PPS: Thanks to everyone who's shared their thoughts so far, I love hearing from you!_


	13. Allenfay Angelay

When Samael emerged into the pale light of dawn, he found himself surrounded by an army of tall trees, their trunks dark in the new light, and underfoot a carpet of soft brown needles over moss and scattered stone.

The transition was so jarring, he turned back to the tunnel entrance...

...and found no entrance.

A couple of staggered steps backwards did not cause the opening to reveal itself - he saw only more of the same: trees, moss, rocks.

And then two humans sitting next to a fire, their backs turned to him, about a hundred feet away.

He wavered on his feet, blinking thoughtfully, then turned in place once more, before finally focusing on the humans again.

A breeze swept to him from their direction, and his mouth suddenly flooded.

The humans were cooking something as they chatted back and forth over the fire.

Whatever they were cooking smelled _divine._

Hunger steadied his step and he walked closer, studying the men as he neared. One was heavy, one thin - both were in black long-sleeved tops and pants, hunched over their plates. Nearby lay a mound of material - more clothing, bags of some sort, and propped against them, long metal rods.

Smiling, he walked up to and between the two men, reaching to the metal lattice they had over the fire, intending to pull some of the wonderful things cooking there to his mouth.

But he yelled out, yanking his hand back, as the men made shouts of their own.

The fire had _burned_ him.

"OH MY GOD!" one of the men yelled behind him. "ART! He's HERE!"

"I'm not BLIND, Steve, JESUS! The wings are right in my FACE!"

Samael turned to face them, cradling his hand.

The men stood a few feet back, their faces wide with shock. The tall one still held a plate, but the other man's had fallen, and the meal lay a mess at Samael's feet.

Frowning, he picked up the plate and held it out to the larger man.

"I would like food," he said, in their language, liking the way the soft sounds mingled with the firmer ones and the overall cadence of the speech.

It was quite different from the very first people's language, which had been closer to the Guardian's in truth. This language was smoother, more distinctively patterned, and much more expressively nuanced.

He smiled.

"Now."

The large man appeared frozen, but the tall one - _Art_ \- held out his own plate with both hands to Samael, bowing awkwardly.

Staring down at it, Samael's smile fell. "Why would I eat the cold remains of your meal?"

He looked again to the larger man.

"Steve, yes?"

A small, odd noise left the man named Steve.

"It knows my name, Art," the man whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"It?" Samael said, frowning between them, before pressing the plate forward more pointedly. "Steve, you will now put food on this plate for me. You will do so quickly."

"Yes I will," the man squeaked, and taking the plate from him with shaking hands, quickly set to filling it with food from the fire. A translucent green bag, marked with _Family Market_ in friendly black lettering, lay nearby. The bag held his attention, but he did not know why.

"Sir, mister, uh, angel, sir, we're really sorry that, ah..."

Samael turned back to the man named Art, stilling the strange idiot's mangled speech. "For?"

"For... um..." The man gestured vaguely about his head. "The... you know..."

A full plate of food was thrust into Samael's hands, followed swiftly by a metal implement that looked like a ladle with tines.

Samael grinned at Steve, who retreated while bobbing oddly.

"Perfect."

He quickly shoveled the... _eggs?_ his mind offered, into his mouth. It burned a little, but he did not care.

Carefully lifting his wings he set himself down in the chair the large one had used.

And swiftly he devoured the eggs, dragging the odd utensil through the yolk left over and drawing it over his tongue, before stabbing at the potatoes, dabbing them into the same, and spooning them off the plate and into his mouth.

"Jesus. Angel can eat."

"That's his food, Steve, let him."

Licking his lips happily, Samael grabbed a piece of the meat - _bacon?_ \- and happily nibbled it as his gaze swept the site.

"Drink," he said, expectantly. Then a new word popped into his mind. He wasn't sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

"Scotch?"

The tall one - Art - folded his hands and stepped closer. "Uh, we don't have any hard liquor, sir, sorry. We do have beer?"

"Art," Steve whined. "That's my last can!"

Pointing at Samael intently, Art spoke in a forced whisper, "_Angel!_"

"Ha!" The large man moved to a colorful container and opened it to retrieve something inside. "You _do_ believe!"

A metal can landed in Samael's hand shortly after as he chewed on another piece of the most incredible bacon. Holding the piece up to his audience, he smiled. "I like this very much. Thank you."

Art nudged Steve in the arm. "Cook more."

Samael nodded his approval and folded his wings forward so he could lean back in the chair. His hands and fingers seemed to move on their own to the can he was holding - pulling back the metal tab for reasons he did not understand. There was a loud popping noise, and a strange froth poured from the top.

Curious, he lapped some of it up.

It was lukewarm and bitter.

Grimacing, he shifted the can over the ground and dropped it.

"Awful."

"Aww, man!" Steve shouted from the fire. He ran over to pick the can up, busy gurgling its contents onto the forest floor. "You don't waste Dogfish, man!"

Samael glared at him. "My _name_ is Samael, human. Not 'man'. Nor 'it'."

Noticeably paler, Steve nodded furiously before returning to the fire.

Art spoke up then, shuffling his chair closer to sit nearby.

"So, you're an actual angel?"

Chewing on another piece of bacon, Samael nodded.

"Then... God's real?"

The meal's flavor lessened somewhat, and he frowned at Art. "My Father is indeed real. I do not wish to speak further of Him."

Art leaned back against his chair. "Right. No God talk, got it."

"What about... Jesus?" Steve asked from the fire, his brow wet.

"Jesus?" Samael asked, holding his plate out for more bacon. "I know of no Jesus."

"Whoa," Art said softly, before gawking at his friend. "Jesus was a fake!"

Steve glared at him. "Was not." He turned to Samael then. "How can you say that? He's supposed to be God's son?"

Samael shook his empty plate at the man with a sigh. "I am God's son. None of my multitude of siblings is called Jesus. What is he known for?"

Art shrugged, digging into his now cold food. "Healing the sick. Talking about God a lot. Telling people not to be dicks."

Samael snorted. "Sounds like a wayward sibling. Probably Raphael slumming it."

Steve's mouth fell open.

"Raphael? He's real?"

Frowning, Samael pressed his empty plate into the man's gut. "If I am real, why would Raphael not be? Or Gabriel for that matter? Amenadiel, Nuriel..." He sagged back against the chair with a sigh. "Curse them all."

Taking the plate, Steve bent over the fire again, frowning.

"Why would an angel curse other angels?" the man finally asked.

Yawning, Samael rested his head on his hand. "Because they cast me out of heaven."

Art raised an eyebrow.

Steve grew suddenly very still.

"Cast you out?" Art asked. "What's that mean?"

Steve made rapid movements across his throat while taking very deliberate steps away.

Frowning, Samael held out his hand for the plate the man was walking away with. "Where are you going with my bacon?"

"Oh my god oh my god ohmygodrun," Steve said in a panicked rush, dropping the plate to the ground.

"What?" Art said back, lifting part way out of his chair.

With an irritated sigh, Samael stood. It was a little too quickly, and he had to grab the chair to steady himself.

"_Allenfay angelay,_" Steven muttered through gritted teeth, staring pointedly at Samael, who'd just reached the pile of bacon on the ground.

"What are you babbling on about, weirdo?"

When he bent to pick it up, Samael was swamped with dizziness.

He fell to his knees.

Art jerked forward, leaning over to help him up. "Whoa, you okay there Sam?"

Frustrated at his own weakness, and greatly irritated by the mangled use of his name, Samael looked up at the man with eyes aflame.

"My name is _Samael,_ human. You would be _wise_ to say it _properly._"

A few things happened very quickly.

Steve screamed and jumped behind Art. Art jerked back, knocked his friend over, and promptly fell on top of him.

And Samael laughed, pointing at the thrashing pile as he chewed on another piece of reclaimed bacon.

"Do that again."

"HE'S A FALLEN ANGEL!" Steve roared, scrambling out from under his backpedaling friend, over to the pile of gear behind the chairs. "THAT'S WHY HE'S A DICK!"

Samael frowned thoughtfully through his meal.

"Did you just call me a penis?"

The thin one followed after his friend, using his elbows to crawl at speed along the ground.

It was all so incredibly amusing.

Samael sat back on his legs on the ground, the tips of his wings trailing on behind him, devouring the bacon as the two men struggled over the metal rods.

"I have a penis, you know. I have used it before. It felt fantastic."

Frowning thoughtfully, he pushed himself from the ground, much more slowly this time. Wincing, he grasped his head as the two men stood to their feet. "Do you enjoy sex? We could have sex, if you are both interested."

He smiled then, as the men leveled the metal rods towards him.

"I am _quite_ good, I assure you."

"He's a perv, Art!" Steve spat at his friend, his eye firmly fixed along the metal rod. "The fallen angel is a perv!"

Samael frowned.

"Do you mean... pervert? That is an interesting word. No, I am not a pervert. I simply enjoy the act of sex. Do you not?"

"Do we shoot him, Art?"

Art was frowning. He lowered the gun slightly. "He's standing there eating bacon, Steve, and talking about sex. I don't think he remembers us either. I think you scrambled his brain when you shot him before."

Chewing the last piece of bacon in his hand, Samael tried to grasp what they were saying. This talk of shooting, and having shot him?

_Guns_ his mind offered helpfully again, finally labeling the rods in the men's hands.

"Are those guns?" he said, quite happy with his deduction.

_Wait..._

_Shot 'him'?_

The smile flattened and he gestured at his temple. "Are you the ones responsible for this?"

"Oh, God, he's gunna kill us, Art! He's a fallen angel! Like the devil!"

Samael blinked.

_the devil_

His head throbbed wickedly as his mind stuttered over the word.

Gasping, he cradled his temples as his eyes burst into fiery life once more.

_Devil?_

_That is... I... was..._

"LUCIFER!"

He raised his burning eyes to face the two men and slowly turned towards the shout.

That voice...

He _knew_ that voice...

"He _IS_ THE DEVIL!" came Steve's cry behind him.

And the air cracked in protest as the men opened fire.

* * *

_Sorry about the wait on this chapter. Lots of wee edits._

_So... things are about to get dark._

_If you're enjoying the story, I hope you'll leave a comment :) Thanks to everyone who has!_


	14. Looking For A Fight

The sight of _her_ seemed to bring the world to a standstill.

Samael stood frozen for a moment, his gaze drifting over the woman's frame and features, desperately taking everything he could of her in.

It was the woman from his dream, whose name he had not known.

Did he know her name now?

_Chloe_

A smile rose on his face before slowly falling again, because she'd made no further move towards him - she seemed stuck in place, her eyes wide, her mouth open with shock but pulling to joy.

Everything about him had slowed immeasurably.

_Amenadiel._

The world snapped into crystalline focus - with a swell of rage he finally registered the three standing beyond Chloe.

"Did you follow me here to strike the final blow?" he spat at his siblings, even as his mind worked to put more fragmented pieces together - the woman, the dream of Hell, the wounds coming not from Michael but from the men behind him...

Frowning, he turned to look back at them, realizing that the sound he'd heard had been gunfire.

The men were also frozen, their faces masks of fear. Three bullets were crawling through the air towards him.

Scowling, he took a step away from their trajectory and turned back to his siblings with a growl, his eyes flaring brightly.

Pain exploded in his head as a fist impacted the side of his face like a rock. Something broke inside, and staggering back, he fell to his knees.

Words rose around him, muffled and distorted, as he stared at the ground, watching the blood from his mouth sink through the dry needles below. Evey movement of his tongue caused agony as he struggled to breathe and speak - his jaw hung oddly, broken beneath a shattered cheekbone.

"REMIEL! DO NOT!"

"You heard him, Amenadiel, he was looking for a fight."

Footsteps thundered towards him - his brother's. Beyond his lowered view the human woman's foot had almost finished with its slow descent.

He looked up at her again, longing for the view, ignoring the pulsing agony of his jaw and the squabbling of his siblings.

"He's not immortal, Remiel - you will kill him!"

Standing to his feet slowly, he shrugged off the aid of his elder brother as Amenadiel tried to support him.

"Luci, you'll be okay. We need to get you to help."

Pushing him away with a scowl, Samael stood before the woman named Chloe.

He needed her to move again, to truly be here, not frozen in time.

"...re..lee.." he mumbled through his broken mouth as he stretched out an arm to gently grasp her hand.

"You'll handle the bullets, Remy?"

"Yes."

Something in his sister's voice drew Samael's eye.

Amenadiel was focused on Chloe, drawing his wings out as if to gather her up and fly.

Azrael's gaze was dark and expectant.

And Remy's smile was sharp as she flicked the last bullet from its once benign path.

Towards him.

But she'd misjudged slightly, and Samael saw clearly where the bullet would go.

Straight through Chloe's head.

With no way to speak properly, to halt Amenadiel from relaxing his hold on time, and with a fraction of a second to move, he acted instinctively to protect the woman he loved.

He shifted to shield her, pulling Chloe's hand to draw her forward.

Time restarted.

There was a wet sound and a sharp flash of pain from his wing as he was shoved forward, clipping Chloe in the shoulder as blood misted the air between them.

They both fell to the ground as the sound of gunfire filled the air.

Chloe gave a short cry of pain, grasping her upper arm as blood pulsed around her fingers. He struggled to rise, to reach her to help, and coughed as a tremendous weight settled on his chest.

His limbs weren't moving right either. Grunting, he tried to crawl towards her instead, angry that he'd not stopped her from getting hurt.

But the pressure increased so much he couldn't breathe.

Something warm spread over his chest.

"Lucifer?"

The gunfire stopped and panicked shouts and cries followed. Samael caught a glimpse of Remiel destroying the men's weapons and throwing the two around like toys before he sagged back against the Earth.

Bright blood bubbled from his chest.

But it did not hurt.

"What... no... How did this happen?!" Chloe scrabbled to his side. "LUCIFER?!"

"REMIEL!" Amenadiel roared, lowering to him. "You said you had them all!"

Samael tried to laugh. His brother was so naive.

But he did very little at all as Chloe lifted his head onto her lap.

Another cough left him as he gave her a mangled smile. He tried hard to raise his hand to hers, pressed tight against the wound through his chest.

He wanted to hold her so badly.

But there was little left that he could do as his body grew terribly still.

The world narrowed to a small dot.

Somewhere very far away Chloe screamed.

And Azrael stepped into view.


	15. The Light of Uncountable Stars

When Lucifer slammed into her and something tore through her arm, Chloe fell to the ground, her mind swimming in shock.

She'd seen him standing in front of the two men as she pushed through the trees, and couldn't help but cry out his name, even as her brain registered that the men had their weapons up.

They shouted, he turned.

Their eyes met.

She had one moment to register the wound caked in dirt across his temple, the exhaustion and surprise in his eyes, before the men opened fire.

And then he was right in front of her and they were falling, and something was so terribly _wrong._

Not just with her own arm. He wasn't getting up right, and the blood on her shirt wasn't all hers, and...

_Oh God_

Blood was pulsing from a hole in his chest, just to the left of his sternum, clean through the ribs.

Straight through his heart.

She watched for one dumbstruck second as he coughed in front of her, his skin growing ashen.

And then it really hit her.

"What... no... How did this happen?!" She scrabbled to his side, her own wound forgotten. "LUCIFER?!"

Amenadiel shouted something beside her, but the words slid from her mind as she tried to pull Lucifer into her arms.

He was leaden - she managed to cradle his head in her lap, and quickly thrust her hand against the wound in his chest as the blood poured freely from her arm.

_Arterial_

But it didn't matter, because Lucifer was trying to smile at her and he was _dying_ and nothing she could do could save him and...

His hand shifted towards her own slightly...

...and the light that was Lucifer deep within those dark eyes grew dim.

And she screamed as the light went out completely.

"I have him."

Hands enveloped her as Azrael stepped near.

"I'll have her too if you don't stop that bleeding."

"Nnnno," Chloe moaned, trying to shake the life back into Lucifer with such little strength it did barely anything at all. His gaze remained fixed to the sky above. His broken and bloodied jaw hung open.

He did not breathe again.

Crying, she looked up at Azrael, whose eyes were fixed on her own intently.

The hands were busy wrapping something around her arm - she tried to pull away, slumping as everything began to spin.

"Hurry."

Azrael's voice drew around her like a comforting blanket, and she let herself go, falling back against Amenadiel as he tightened the bandage on her arm.

"Give him back," she whispered, caught in the angel's gaze.

Azrael shook her head and stepped closer.

"Then... take me too..."

Everything narrowed to Azrael's dark gaze, expansive and shifting with the light of uncountable stars.

"Not today," someone said firmly behind her.

And time froze once more.

* * *

_One more small chapter after this one then back to my usual long ones._


	16. Finally Going Home

Azrael blinked and stepped back as time slowed about her, stilling the human's transition and drawing the soul back within the woman's body.

"Brother, I almost had her."

The ache was one she'd felt before and she negotiated it quickly - the disappointment of something briefly claimed and lost.

She wanted the woman's soul badly now, having had a taste, but it would have to wait.

Besides, she had Samael's, and that one needed special care.

In one of her fake human sounding breaths, as she released her disappointed sigh, a hundred people across the world died, on top of the eighty seven that had died the moment before. She felt them all and ferried them all with other instances of herself and every one felt immensely satisfying.

She drew from that and resettled herself in this moment, cradling her brother's soul gently within.

He was very confused, but greatly enjoying the light show.

"First stop Hell, then?" Remiel said, walking to them from the campsite. "We will return our errant brother to where he truly belongs? This time he will not be able to leave."

Amenadiel stood with the human locked in time in his arms, trembling with rage.

"I can't afford distractions now _sister,_" he spat the word out, "but know I will settle this with you later."

Remiel gaze grew guarded, and she pointed down at their brother's body.

"He never should have left Hell. You knew this. Your task was to return him and you failed. I succeeded in your place."

Azrael shook her head. "You haven't."

Remiel frowned at her. "You would defy the Laws of Judgement and take him to the Silver City?"

Azrael smiled. "His soul is one of the lightest I have ever taken, my sad little sister."

"Our brother is finally going Home."

* * *

_Btw, I didn't realize this was such a wee little chapter, otherwise I would have posted it with the other one. _

_Sorry!_

_Wonder what everyone thinks of Lucifer going Home in this way? ;)_


	17. Corporeally Challenged

_TRIGGER WARNING - the events in this chapter will be confronting for some._

_Long one now :) The majority are, from this point on. If you have a moment, share your thoughts in a comment. :) And as always, thanks for reading._

* * *

_Chloe_

She stirred against stiff sheets as the soft voice tugged her up out of the smothering dark.

"Mmm?"

Her throat felt like sandpaper, her mouth was an endless desert, and she grimaced, her brows closing down tight.

_Are you alright?_

"Umwa?"

_Those are unintelligible responses, darling. Try a little harder?_

The voice tugged insistently at her, it's cadence familiar, the tone warm and playful.

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Lu..ci..fer?" she rasped.

A face filled her vision, already overwhelmed by the cold glow of fluorescent lighting, and it took a moment for her to label it with a name.

"...Dan?"

His mouth split in a wide grin and she felt his hand wrap around her own, urgently reassuring.

"Hey, Chlo, I'm here. How are you feeling?"

She watched his features shift with each word, a great deal of her still not quite _here,_ though she was trying to be.

Where _was_ here?

Dan's warm hand stroked the side of her head. "You're still a little loopy, huh."

_He irritates me no end, but he does truly care for you, Chloe._

The voice rose about her, and she glanced around what was clearly a hospital room, replete with vases of flowers on a shelf nearby, looking for its source.

"Lucifer?"

Dan frowned and shook his head. "Sorry Chloe. He's not here, and Amenadiel's not saying much. Just that they took him home? No idea where that is though - he ever say?"

_I'm right here actually, he just can't see me._

"Where?" she asked the voice, which had no clear source at all.

And then he was standing, beside the bed opposite from Dan, in a crisp blue three-piece suit and white shirt, looking perfectly himself and smiling a warm, yet oddly sad, smile.

"Oh my God..." she rasped, lifting her hand towards him, expecting him to take it. "I thought... you were dead..."

Lucifer brought a finger to his mouth and glanced at Dan. He made no move towards her.

She frowned. Something seemed odd about how he looked.

Then she realized - his ring was gone.

"Who you talking to, Chloe?"

Frowning, she looked back at Dan.

"Lucifer," she whispered, and looked over to point at him, belatedly noticing the IV in the back of her hand.

The man she loved shook his head.

_He can't see me, Chloe._

Lucifer's mouth didn't move at all as the voice filled her head. He just smiled.

Sadly.

Dan looked to where she had pointed, then back at her, his eyes worried. "He's... he's not here, Chloe."

He fumbled then, looking for something next to her side. Pulling it up, he pressed the call button for the nurse.

_I'm so sorry, Chloe,_ came Lucifer's voice once more.

"Oh..." she said, as her heart ached with a sudden, terrible pain. "Oh..."

She reached for Lucifer again, wanting him to hold her hand. Just a simple touch. He was right _there,_ why couldn't he just...

A nurse in rainbow scrubs walked into the room, passing _through_ Lucifer as she walked to the side of the bed.

Lucifer grimaced.

And vanished.

And Chloe began to cry.

"I can come back?" the nurse said beside her, as Chloe lifted her hand to cover her eyes and her sobs grew louder still.

"Oh, Chloe," Dan said softly, squeezing her hand. "I'm sure Lucifer's okay."

His voice shifted as he turned from her. "She was seeing things - that from the drugs?"

"Don't think so. She's on very light doses of morphine and a blood thinner. That's it. Was she just waking up?"

"Yeah."

"That's probably why. She'll be disoriented for a little while. It's normal."

Chloe wanted them both to go away, and tried to mumble that, but the words were lost to tears.

A hand touched her lightly on the arm. "Sweetheart, can I get you anything? Water? How's your pain?"

"Go away... please," she finally managed, her hand still covering her eyes. "Please."

The hand withdrew. "I'll come back later."

Chloe finally brought the grief back under control, and lowered her hand as she swallowed her tears.

Blinking up furiously, she looked at Dan.

"Thank you for being here."

He beamed, and squeezed her hand. "Of course, Chlo. I couldn't believe it when they told me what happened, it was-"

"Can you give me some time alone?"

"Oh." He pulled back a little, and nodded, the smile fading. "Oh, sure. Trixie's out in the waiting room, hanging out with another kid. You okay if she comes in?"

She frowned at him, trying to put pieces together. "How long was I out?"

Lucifer's voice returned playfully.

_Three years._

"Oh my god," she mumbled, as the tears hit her again, hard. "Oh god..."

_Oh, Chloe._

"Chloe, hey, it's only been a couple of days. You lost a lot of blood and scared everybody for a minute there, but you're okay now."

"Please, Dan," she groaned, struggling to appear in control. "I just need a moment."

Dan's hand left her own, and he stood. "Yeah, okay. I'll come back in fifteen minutes, that okay?"

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

Giving her a small smile, Dan left the room and closed the door behind him.

_It's strange being privy to his thoughts now. He's really quite a smart man. And he has such love for you, Chloe._

Lucifer was standing again, at the side of the bed, his suit impeccable, his smile hesitant.

Chloe reached for him, her mouth twisting in pain. "Give me your hand."

His smile fell.

"Do it," she said through a sob. Her throat was so tight it hurt. "I have to see."

With a sigh she felt, he walked away from her hand, and moved to take the spot Dan had just held. His movement was odd, with a faint blurriness that made her skin crawl.

With sad eyes, he leaned over her, as if to kiss the crown of her head.

And she felt nothing.

He sighed and stood, and wouldn't meet her eye.

_Chloe. I'm sorry._

The tears would not be stopped then, and she turned onto her good arm away from him and curled up as far as her bound arm would allow.

_Please don't cry, please._

"You don't get to tell me that!" she yelled, tasting the salt of her tears as they spilled into her mouth. She wrapped an arm about herself. "You're dead... and you died because of me."

_I died because of Remiel, Chloe, not you._

"What?" She turned back to him slightly, tears still flooding her eyes, wincing as her arm shifted badly. "Remiel?"

His mouth twisted in a mean smirk.

_Oh yes. She never got over what I did. She saw it as the perfect solution to get me back to Hell._

She frowned, watching him as the words filled her head. "Why don't your lips move when you talk?"

He smiled. _Because it would be pointless. I can mouth words at you but they have no sound. I'm not in a body that produces it anymore. I put my thoughts into your head instead._

His smile softened, and he mouthed three words clearly:

I love you

It broke her heart. Turning back to him, she reached her good hand out towards his cheek.

He pulled back and shook his head. _You don't want to do that. It will only hurt._

"Please."

With a soft, ethereal sigh, he leaned forward, his gaze downward, his mouth a thin line.

She drew closer, willing herself to feel the warmth of the skin she could see so clearly, the rough stubble of his cheek.

But her hand passed through him as if he were smoke.

He was right. It hurt.

Closing her eyes, drawing her hand back to herself, she cried.

He did not tell her to stop, but she heard his sighs and a few soft swear words in the midst of her tears.

It helped the smallest bit, and she finished, staring at a spot of nothing across the room.

_Chloe, love, my brother left something for you on the side table there._

She sighed, and shook her head, her gaze still held by the far wall. "I don't want gifts."

_This is not a gift._

Frowning, she looked at him. "What then?"

He nodded towards the side table, and hovered a finger over a small leather bag.

_I'd hand it to you but I'm a little corporeally challenged._

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite her grief.

_Oh, lovely. I felt your response to that. I'm glad you enjoyed my joke._

She sighed then and made a token effort to get the bag, but her bad arm was enough of a roadblock to make it impossible.

"I'll look later."

_Alright._

Something he'd said before about Remiel hit her then, and she looked up at him in alarm.

_No, her plan didn't work,_ he answered her unspoken question.

_You're reading my thoughts?_

_I feel everything you feel and hear your thoughts as if they were my own. I do love hearing your voice though._

He smiled.

"You... you went to Heaven?" she whispered, feeling a sudden swell of emotion she couldn't quite label.

He laughed, and the sound shimmered through her. It was the most carefree sound she'd ever heard him make.

_Relief, is the emotion I think. There's joy there too._ He grinned. _It was quite the scene - Peter at the gates welcoming me with open arms, a fanfare of angels singing my praises, and cherubs swinging by with glasses of fine malt whiskey..._

Chloe's face crinkled. "Really?"

_No,_ he sent with a grin. _Azrael had to sneak me in through the back, and told me to keep a low profile for a century or two while she sorted some of my less forgiving siblings out. Quite a few of the apostles were shocked actually, as they'd never really had a chance to know me before my Fall, so lots of fussing about on their part._

Chloe found herself getting angry at apostles, and wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

Lucifer's smile grew wistful. A rare look that made her heart ache.

_It felt incredible to be back, Chloe. I just wish... it had been before I died._ His gaze fell and she tried to reach for him, wanting so much to be of comfort.

But she stopped, and let her hand sag back to her chest, knowing what would happen.

Lucifer's gaze rose again. _I'd forgotten what home was like. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it._

Chloe stared at him for a long moment, caught up in what she could see in his gaze.

Peace.

"Can you take me?" she asked, meaning it in a casual way, but such a swell of longing followed it that she realized it meant something very different.

His smile fell slightly and he shook his head.

_No. But I will see you there one day, which is more than I ever thought I'd have._

She nodded, and the wall caught her gaze again.

"When," she said flatly.

_Chloe, look at me._

She closed her eyes, letting go of one tear, before turning to look at him.

His gaze was sharp, and held a great deal of worry.

_When it's time. And not before._

"Mmm," she said, returning to look at the wall.

_Chloe._

She did not turn.

_My love._

With a deep sigh, catching the edge of a sob, she looked at him again.

_You mustn't do what you're thinking. You have a life very much worth living._

Nodding vaguely, she gave him a smile that meant nothing.

"I think I need some time alone."

His beautiful mouth, framed by his perfectly groomed stubble, frowned.

_I think that's a mistake._

"Please go away," she breathed, and looked down at the back of her hand where the IV line was taped.

_No,_ he answered, straightening with the same frown, before it softened. _I rather like the view._

She scowled at him. "What? Me in a hospital bed again? You like that?"

Eyes widening, he quickly shook his head. _No, that's not what I meant._

"I don't want you here anymore, Lucifer!" she snapped, her voice rising much higher than she meant.

He vanished.

It hurt. It all hurt too much, and now that the painkillers were wearing off, her arm was joining in on the fun.

Her mind wandered over the fact that she was on intravenous morphine.

It wandered over the fact and wandered back. She turned, to trace the line from her IV up to the saline bag on the nearby stand, and back down again to the blue pump the line was fed through. Attached to it was another unit packed with a large syringe. There were numbers on the display - probably the delivery rate, if she had to guess.

This was the morphine, wasn't it?

She reached over and pressed the up arrow button next to the delivery rate.

It did nothing.

Frowning, she stabbed at it, then tried to hit more of the buttons in the hope of releasing whatever hold was put in place.

_Chloe._

"My arm hurts!" she mumbled, as her eyes flooded again, and the display blurred away. "I told you to go away!"

_My dear Chloe. I will never leave your side._

"Oh, GREAT!" she spat. "That's the kind of afterlife you need, stuck to me like a spectral tick!"

Making noises that had no hope of being words, she groped at the pump, struggling to free the syringe. It was stuck behind some kind of plastic shield. There was a slot for a key... where was the key?

There. On the table to her right, pushed away from the bed. Probably not supposed to be there, but she didn't care. Straining, making her arm so much worse, she pulled the table near and claimed the key.

She'd just take all of it, that would fix everything, wouldn't it?!

_No. Do NOT do this._

He stood beside her again, his eyes wild with worry, his mouth framing the same word over and over.

STOP

"We had something I will never have again, Lucifer. I will never hold you again. I can't even hold your hand. I can't... I can't do this..."

Her groping fingers opened the shield about the syringe, and she plucked it free with a quick rush of odd relief.

She just had to squeeze this, deliver it all in one go, and the pain would be gone.

Wouldn't it? Was it a large enough dose?

_Chloe, you have a CHILD_

"Who has a father," Chloe snapped back at him, her throat closing tight. Her hands hovered over the depressor, willing herself to push.

She did have a child. Trixie would be so hurt.

_Look at me._

She pressed a little, but it didn't really move. She hadn't thought it would be this hard.

_LOOK AT ME_

Chloe looked, her world blurred to tears, feeling hopeless and shattered. She was supposed to be strong. This wasn't strong.

This was so terribly weak.

Lucifer's form, just a blurry smudge of color to her weeping eyes, began to glow.

The colors coalesced into streams of brilliant white light, that grew in intensity until they burned like the heart of the brightest star. The light flooded her eyes, her mind, and every part of her wounded being with a love beyond anything she had ever felt, or would ever feel again.

Everything else disappeared - the room, the bed, the syringe in her hand - and she floated within that light, bathed by it, comforted by it, and part of it, for a time she had no will to measure.


	18. Dear Old F'ing Dad

_Hello! Thanks to everyone who's left comments so far - I love chatting about the story with you and hearing your thoughts! :D_

_If you haven't read my first Lucifer fanfic **All Of My Worlds Suck** btw, this chapter is going to be a bit of a jolt. ;)_

* * *

Lucifer felt Chloe slip from his celestial light into a deep, untroubled slumber, and relaxed, drawing back his energies until he looked as he wished to look - perfectly groomed in Armani, with not a hair out of place.

He stared down at her, wishing for nothing more than to brush the tears from her closed eyes. To cup her cheek and place a soft kiss upon her lips.

But he couldn't. He would never do so again. Not here.

She looked... better, though her eyes were still deeply shadowed and puffy, and her skin pale. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths and she felt, at least for now, in peace.

His gaze drifted to the syringe beside her hand.

While the dose she could have delivered may not have been enough to kill her, that didn't really matter.

She had believed it would.

She would have done it, if he hadn't mentioned Trixie.

Lucifer shut his imaginary eyes and released an unnecessary sigh. Another fabrication, the mimicry of what he once was. He could not quite let go of it yet.

He truly hadn't thought her capable of doing such a thing.

But he'd felt her grief firsthand. He'd felt how devastated she was when she'd seen how separated they truly were.

She was lost. She was hurting terribly.

But she would get better.

He gazed down at her in sleep again, so deep it was dreamless.

_I will make sure of that._

Voices pulled his attention outside, and he briefly touched the minds of Trixie and Dan as they approached.

He shifted to stand by the chair in the corner of the room so they would not pass through him on their way to Chloe.

It had happened a few times so far and it was unpleasant every time. An intimate sharing of someone's innermost essence, every secret laid bare, a bombardment of thoughts, feelings and desires that left him reeling.

In the words of that lobster from The Little Mermaid:

_A little too close_

Dan entered first, carrying a plate laden with two lemon slices and a small piece of chocolate cake.

The man was hopeful that Chloe was feeling better, and worried about the confusion and the grief that seemed to hit her out of the blue. Dan's thoughts flicked to Lucifer then, chased by a mess of emotions - irritation first and foremost, followed by a chiding reminder to himself of how much things had changed, how nice Lucifer had been to him lately.

Lucifer snorted. That hadn't been on purpose. It seemed no matter what he meant to say, no matter how biting or condescending he intended his words to be, what came out were endless affirmations of Dan's general goodness and desire to do right by people.

And this had gone on for months now. It had been excruciating at first, but he'd finally come to terms with it, thrown up his hands and let it be.

It had helped that Lucifer had started to see the truth of his words, even more so from this all-seeing angle.

He was, he had to admit, glad that Chloe had Dan by her side.

More of Dan's thoughts passed in moments - was Lucifer dead? Amenadiel's words and expression had been hard to interpret, though he'd admitted his brother had been hurt and said they were taking him home. Did they mean Lucifer's body? Was it possible that Chloe saw his ghost?

_Very good, Daniel. As I've said before you are a smar-_

"LUCIFER!"

Lucifer's eyes bulged at Trixie's cry - belatedly he realized that he'd felt her stirring recognition of him while dwelling in Dan's memories, but had been too engrossed to take note.

And here now the little human was grinning at him and running to tackle him in a hug, as Dan looked on in shock.

_How?!_

Too late he realized this would not go well for either of them, but the thought was wiped from his mind when she reached him, arms outstretched...

...and ran through him, straight into the chair he stood before.

He gasped, folding over with her passage as everything she was streamed through him, so much, much more than he had prepared for...

"What the... Trixie?! Are you okay!?"

Dan's fear reached him, that maybe there was something to this ghost business after all, and suddenly Dan was right there, standing in Lucifer as he struggled to recover from what he had felt and seen and known from Trixie's essence.

Because...

_Father.. you did... **not**..._

"Are you okay monkey? What's... what's wrong?"

Memories that had been taken from him were returned in a rush. Overwhelmed by them, by what they meant, and struggling to find himself amidst his entanglement with Dan, Lucifer fled the only way he could.

Down through the floor into another person's room.

The room was dimly lit. A lady of great age lay on the bed, her hand held by a woman in tears - her daughter. Lucifer watched the scene dumbly for a moment as his mind roiled over what he'd just learned.

His Father had come to Earth again... as _Trixie._

His Father as Trixie had pulled him out of Hell...

... and they'd had a real talk, and Lucifer had finally felt something he'd been missing - his Father's love and approval.

And then dear old fucking dad had yanked the entire thing away from him.

The daughter jumped up with a cry and started shaking her mother.

And the old woman's soul appeared beside the bed and looked around the room in wonder.

_Are you an angel?_ she said softly. _Are you here to take me to Heaven?_

Lucifer finally registered that she was talking to him.

_I'm sorry,_ he answered, with a small bow of the head, _I believe you're waiting on my-_

The door burst open and in ran Trixie, her face wide with shock and fear.

"LUCIFER?!"

Dan followed, trying to pull her back from the door, his face flushed, and wincing at the view of the woman bent over her dead mother on the bed.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what's got into her," Dan mumbled, trying to draw Trixie back out of the room.

Lucifer moved quickly to the woman's soul and nodded. _Yes, I'm your angel, absolutely, no time to waste!_

And the woman let out a bubbly giggle as he circled his arm around her waist and sank them both down another level, glaring at Trixie as they went.

"STOP RUNNING FROM ME!" she yelled after him, darting back out the door.

The old woman looked up at him as the age in her frame leeched away, and he was soon holding a young woman in her 20s, her dark hair beautifully coiffed, her impeccable dress and makeup straight from the 50s.

_You're a handsome angel,_ she said with a bright smile.

Smiling himself, he took her hand in his own and turned their little trip into a dance, twirling her around as they continued to sink through another floor.

She raised an eyebrow playfully. _Aren't we going the wrong way?_

He grinned at her. _I'm not sure, have you been bad?_

With a grand sweep of his arm, he twirled her out, then swept her back, and she pressed against his chest with a sultry smile.

_If you're what's waiting for me, then absolutely._

Lucifer laughed, finding the woman's advances a lovely antidote to the mix of confusion and anger the recent revelation had brought him.

_Sadly, my dear, you're a little too late._

She made a sound of disappointment, that wasn't reflected in her smile, and together they landed on the firm floor of a corridor leading to the main lobby of the hospital.

The dance continued, because it turned out the woman - Barbara - had won quite a few dance competitions in her youth, and wasted no time getting back into the swing of things, now she'd shed her old self.

It was delightful, and for a moment he forgot he was dead. Forgot his Father was currently chasing after him in the body of a young girl, and forgot that the woman he loved had almost killed herself out of grief.

For a moment anyway, because as soon as they reached the doors to the outside, Azrael was there, standing in their way.

"Lucifer, what are you doing?"

Smiling, he gave his sister a little nod, and raised a hand to his partner, who was positively giddy at this point.

_Azrael, this is Barbara. Barbara, Azrael._

His sister rolled her eyes. "I know who she is, silly. I'm here for her. Barbara, I'm sorry I'm late."

_Oh, that's okay, I had fun._

Azrael nodded, fixed her gaze upon the woman, and Lucifer's partner was gone.

He sighed, feeling her absence rather keenly. The moment truly had been lovely.

_I could have taken her there._

His sister laughed. "Another few minutes of that and she'd never want to leave your side."

Her head tilted then, as she looked around him. "Besides, I think someone else wants to have a word with you."

Lucifer glanced back.

He scowled.

Trixie was storming through the lobby, her face a tiny storm of anger.

He turned back, realizing running was pointless.

_Sister, did you kno-_

But Azrael was gone.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer turned to face his Father.


	19. Everything Is Me

Trixie stood before him, her eyes wet and wide, her mouth agape.

"You're dead!"

Lucifer gave a slow golf clap.

_Your omniscience is as sharp as ever, Father._

Now surrounded by a small group of people looking on in worry, the child flailed her arms towards him.

"But... how?! How are you dead?!"

Lucifer frowned.

_What do you mean 'how'? You're the Almighty! Shouldn't you know?_

"Little miss," an older woman in blue said, moving to Trixie's side, "are you alright?"

He scanned the crowd quickly, surprised that Dan hadn't burst through for her yet. _Where's Daniel?_

"Miss?" The woman repeated, placing a hand gently on Trixie's shoulder. "Did you need help?"

Trixie turned to the old woman. "I'm fine, thank you, I'm talking to the ghost of my dead son. By the way, Gerald left you ten thousand dollars in a hope chest buried under bags of clothes in your attic. You should go find it before your grandson does."

She turned back to Lucifer then, as the old woman looked uncomfortable and shuffled away.

"Dad's back with Mom."

_Did you wipe his mind as well?_ he sneered. _You seem fond of that sort of thing._

Trixie glared at him. "I did that to protect everyone, Sammy."

Lucifer walked up and went to tap her on the head. Of course his hand went straight through her, but the sensation was not unlike touching a live car battery. He snatched his hand back and scowled at her.

_I feel rather less protected than you might think, Father, what with being dead._

"Miss, are your parents here?"

A security guard stood over her this time, a tall muscular man with a buzz cut. This was his first job after being discharged from the army, and his energy was that of a taut spring.

Trixie gave him her softest smile. "You need to relax now, Dave. Find the nearest couch, lay down, and have a good, long refreshing sleep. Dream of being a child again, playing in the sand on that beach you loved. No one will interrupt you."

"Okay." Nodding, he left for the far side of the lobby.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and walked through the door.

The sunshine beamed down on him, saturating everything about him in a happy yellow.

He couldn't feel a thing.

He sighed.

"Little girl! You can't walk off without your parents!"

Grimacing, Lucifer turned back. Trixie was following him across the parking lot, followed by a middle-aged Indian man and his wife. The woman had a scarf wrapped tightly about her head, hiding a lack of hair. Her skin was sallow.

Trixie turned to face them, focusing on the woman.

"Go get a second opinion, it's not as bad as it seems."

The woman's complexion warmed dramatically, and tugging her husband away, they returned to the hospital.

_How very Jesus of you, Father. Feeling nostalgic?_

Trixie frowned thoughtfully as she neared, then reached out and took his hand.

Lucifer gasped. He stared down at the small hand solidly clasped in his own.

It was the first sensation of touch he'd felt from a living being since he'd died.

_How?_

"God," she said quietly, still not fully focused on him. He could practically hear her mind churning.

"I didn't know you were going to die, Sammy," she said finally, frowning up at him deeply.

He booped her on the nose.

She slapped his hand away. "This is serious!"

_Am I alive again?_ he said with wonder, squeezing her hand gently. The warmth of it felt wonderful.

"No. You're just solid for me."

_Oh._ He sighed. _Of course. Everything's for you, isn't it._

"Yes," she murmured, still thoughtful. "Everything is me. I can't help but be for myself."

_Excuse me,_ Lucifer said tersely, pulling his hand from hers and walking away.

"Sammy, don't take it like that!"

Her flip flops slapped against the pavement as she ran after him.

He twisted to face her. _Was my death amusing? How about the deaths happening now, in that hospital there? Are you enjoying the death throes of your toys?_

"Samael," she said angrily, her hands on her small hips, "stop that right now."

_Did you know that Chloe tried to kill herself because I died?!_ he shouted into her mind. _Was that in your plan?!_

Trixie's eyes filled with tears. "No," she mumbled, her voice rising.

He sneered and turned away again. _Save the affectations, Father, I am immune to them._

"You're not listening to me, Sammy. Please! I didn't plan this - I didn't see this coming! This wasn't meant to happen!"

Lucifer stopped dead.

Which was a little ironic.

He turned on his most fashionable heel to look at her.

_What?_

Trixie plopped herself on the ground, right in the middle of the parking lot.

**I DID NOT PLAN THIS**

The world stopped.

_Every_ world stopped. Every sun, star, moon, every asteroid and particle of radiation.

The universe ground to a halt.

Lucifer felt fear.

Again, a little ironic because he was dead. But his Father had never exercised this level of control in front of him before, even when placing the major elements of this universe.

There had always been _motion._

And now there was nothing.

Even when his Dad had stopped Chloe and Dan wrestling over him in the apartment, the area had stopped, not _everything._

"I am everything, son," Trixie said quietly. "And I need you to listen to me."

_Alright, Dad._

Lucifer crossed his arms.

_Speak._

* * *

_Thanks for reading everyone. Forgot I still have some smaller chapters. Anyhoo. I would be greatly alarmed realizing the omnipotent wasn't so much._

__There are about... 14 chapters written ahead of this one. I'm not sure I'll be able to finish the whole story before these posts catch up. We'll see what happens. :)__

_I hope everyone is enjoying the story regardless - thanks to those who've left comments to let me know what they think! They really do make my day.  
_


	20. Not Entirely Graceful

The first thing Trixie-dad did was take him back to the scene of his own death.

It hadn't been immediately apparent, why they were in the woods again, and being in the place made him uncomfortable - the ghost of an anxiety that just left him irritable.

He saw his siblings then, arranged around two people.

His own wings caught his eye first and he smiled appreciatively. Until they walked around the frozen scene and he saw the mess that was his body - dirt everywhere and a big glob of it where his head wound had been. His eyes were shadowed, his skin pale. But the worst was his mouth, his jaw and cheek, crooked and bleeding, thanks to Remiel's punch.

_Tsk._  
_Chloe saw me like this._

The sight of her stirred a multitude of emotions. The joy was immediate, followed by the longing to gather her up and shield her from what was about to happen. Then a deep concern - she looked so worried and tired.

A sudden sharp grief hit him horribly, and he found himself turning away as his illusory eyes mimicked the beginnings of tears.

Trixie's little hand looped through his own.

He grasped at it like a drowning man.

Seeing his own death was nothing compared to reliving Chloe's pain.

He closed his eyes as Trixie restarted everything, but the emotions still slid over him.

_Are you going to undo this, Father?_ he murmured as they drew closer to Remiel, and the moment she diverted the bullet.

"You'll handle the bullets, Remy?" Amenadiel asked, his back to her, wings just unfurling to fly.

His brother was focused solely on getting them away, and worried about Lucifer's jaw. He thought pulling Chloe away first would help him heal.

Lucifer frowned. That was the problem though, wasn't it? It didn't seem that her proximity mattered anymore.

"Yes," Remiel answered.

He opened his eyes at his sister's voice, turning to look again just as the past version did.

Time halted.

_Father?_ he asked, as Trixie still hadn't answered his question.

They were at this moment, perhaps he could...

He stepped forward and swung his hand at his sister's as her finger was moments from contact.

He passed through her, insubstantial. Ineffective.

"I can't," Trixie said flatly, studying Remiel's face.

Lucifer frowned, and focused on his sister. A revelation came from the moment.

_She never forgave me for Uriel..._

He hadn't known.

His sister's triumph spiked through him as the scene began to play again, dampened still by Amenadiel's power.

Trixie's gaze shifted to the Lucifer of this moment, and he followed suit, watching and feeling his own recognition of what was about to happen. The decision to save Chloe.

Trixie's face crumpled. "Look at what you did, Sammy. Look how beautiful your light is right now. I'm so sorry this happened."

Time restarted earnestly, released from Amenadiel's hold.

Lucifer watched Chloe intently as the bullet burst through his chest and tore through her arm, sending them both to the ground. Pain, confusion and shock shot through him from her, chased by a dawning horror and panic.

_Chloe,_ he moaned, her pain growing too much, as she struggled to him, her arm pulsing blood. _Father, please. Please stop this._

Time froze again, at the moment he lay in Chloe's lap.

Azrael stood over him.

Chloe's mouth was open in a soundless scream he still remembered.

Azrael's head turned towards them.

"Reviewing, Father?" Azrael asked Trixie.

Lucifer shook his head in disbelief.

_Sister, you are terrifying._

The angel of death grinned at him. "Aww, thanks." She returned her attention to Trixie. "He was mortal, Father, I believe that's important."

Trixie lowered to Lucifer's body, nodding slowly. "Yes. Something happened to him that I did not foresee."

Lucifer waved at them both. _I know I'm dead, but I am actually present here. Do you think you could stop talking about me in the third person?_

Azrael merely smiled.

_You knew I was going to die, didn't you._

She nodded. "Yes. I was not sure of the cause, but I knew your thread would be cut at that moment."

_Well, thank you so much, dear sister, for saying absolutely nothing at all at the time!_

Her face fell. "Oh my dear brother, I can't change what's about to happen. I don't have that power."

Arms crossed tightly about his chest, Lucifer scowled down at his prone body.

_So I was vulnerable, Chloe was there. What is the point of this?_

But even as he said it, he realized this was a half truth. He hadn't been simply vulnerable. He _had_ been mortal. He'd first been shot when he was miles away from Chloe.

Trixie nodded again and rose. "Yes, let's see that too."

_Oh,_ he snorted at her. _Great. Let's._

"Bye!" Azrael said waving before returning her gaze to Lucifer's body.

And the world shifted again.

They were standing next to two men, dressed in camo gear and overburdened with supplies, on a small bluff overlooking the valley and river.

The men were hunting for Bigfoot.

_The Guardian's a complete twat, by the way,_ Lucifer mumbled, irritated about everything.

"No, he isn't," Trixie snorted back at him, her hand seeking his again as she scanned the sky. "He's very kind, and he saved your life."

It was Lucifer's time to snort. _Fat lot of good that did. I ended up dying anyway._

"True, but that wasn't his fault. He offered you shelter and food. If you'd taken it, you may not have died."

_I would have, because both his food and his shelter were poison._

She rolled her eyes, then smiled at the sky. "Here you come!"

Lucifer looked up, frowning. _Yes. Lovely. Fair warning - I was a little drunk._

The landing was not entirely graceful or angelic, as Lucifer's left wing clipped a nearby spruce. He almost tossed the bag of breakfast goodies over his head as he struggled to compensate, finally landing hard and staggering a few feet.

Lucifer slapped his palm to his face.

The men were so incredibly gobsmacked that they couldn't speak. Steve had raised his gun, hearing the commotion in the trees, his finger automatically seeking the trigger.

"Bollocks," the past Lucifer mumbled, checking his bag to make sure everything was fine. He then pointed over his shoulder. "Been flyin' around for hours... do either of you gents know where-"

A crack split the air - Lucifer twisted to his right with a grunt, dropping the bag, then grabbed at his side. Blood spilled over his fingers as he looked back at the men in shock.

"Fuck!"

He took to the air in a flurry of wing beats.

Steve fired three more shots in quick succession.

One clipped the very top of Lucifer's wing, another missed, and the last caught him hard against the temple.

_Annnnd, down I go._

He fell, tumbling limply, out of sight.

"WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!" Art yelled, as Steve dropped to his knees in horror.

Everything froze.

Trixie frowned up at him.

Lucifer crossed his arms, feeling rather defensive.

_I don't like camping, Father. I went into town, and thought I'd pop into the pub and have a few fingers of whiskey for the return flight._

"And?"

Lucifer frowned. _And it hit me like a ton of bricks._ He walked to the edge of the bluff and stared down at the churning waters below. _I was disoriented, lost, and spent ages trying to find Chloe. Finally saw these two and thought I'd ask them._

"Thought you'd fly down, with big wings on your back, and ask two armed men for directions?"

He winced. _I wasn't of sound mind, Father._

"Clearly." Trixie frowned. "It seems you were mortal before you went to town, Samael, otherwise the drink wouldn't have affected you."

He scowled, watching his body just starting to flail in the waters below.

_How, Father?_ he asked, looking up at her with a terrible need. _How is that possible?_

"I think one last stop will answer this."

Lucifer sighed, and nodded, and bent over the bluff again.

**_IDIOT!_**

* * *

_I enjoy Trixie and Lucifer's interactions so much :D Think I'll explain a few things here. Azrael is a little different from other angels, since she uses multiple instances of herself to collect souls. She's a little more outside of the rules of linear time than her siblings are. Speaking of time - some of the start stops that Trixie is doing in this scene affect Amenadiel's slowed time and then regular time. So sorry about any confusion over that._

_I greatly enjoyed the idea of Lucifer crashing into a tree while drunk as well %) Poor dude._

_In the next chapter, we find out how Lucifer lost his immortality. If you're enjoying the story, or not, let me know with a comment. And thank you for reading!_


	21. The Angelic Tongue

_Father. I don't believe this is an appropriate scene for a twelve-year-old._

Lucifer and Trixie stood outside of the tent at the campsite. The almost full moon was rising behind them, and the air was filled with animalistic cries and grunts that had nothing at all to do with the fauna in the area.

There was a long wail - Chloe's - and Lucifer knew exactly then what day it was and what he'd just done to her.

_Mmmm,_ he murmured, relishing the memory.

_This is towards the end of the third day,_ he murmured. _She was going almost constantly and I... um..._

Looking down at Trixie's scrunched up face, he stopped.

_Nevermind._

"Oh, Lucifer... Oh oh OH!"

Lucifer smirked, then frowned as he glanced at Trixie again. _Seriously, Father, if you must be here, at least change. I will not allow a minor to be privy to such things._

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Not like I couldn't hear you two back home."

He winced.

_It not my fault your mother is loud._

"It is your fault, entirely."

_Please, Father._

The girl beside him took a step forward and was suddenly a woman of advanced years, stooped and slow, swaddled in voluminous knitted sweaters.

"How's this?"

Lucifer grimaced. _Somehow worse._

"What?" the old Trixie said, holding a hand to her ear.

_Father, I'm speaking to you telepathically. Stop pretending you can't hear me._

"Tee hee." She gave a gap-toothed smile.

The years retracted, leaving her somewhere in her thirties.

"Better?"

Lucifer smiled. _Much. You are beautiful at this age._

Rolling her eyes, she turned to look at the tent.

Her gaze grew serious, as Lucifer's own cries filled the night.

Lucifer coughed beside her. _She has a fascinating way with her tongue._

"Eww."

And then both Lucifer and Chloe were crying out as the sound of slapping flesh bounced off the trees around them.

_I will never have sex again,_ Lucifer sighed, looking up towards the moon. Outside of being with Chloe, and the odd shot of whiskey, he was going to miss that the most.

"Here," older-Trixie said under her breath.

Lucifer shouted from within the tent, a hoarse cry that made the tent swing wildly and the ground around them tremble.

_Thank God she'd just passed out. She would have been terrified._

"You cried out in the angelic tongue," Trixie said softly.

Lucifer frowned. _Yes. I'd never done that before. But something about this was different. There was an intensity to it I'd never felt before. The most 'little death' I'd ever experienced._

"You shouted 'Help'."

_Mmm. I suppose I did._ He shrugged.

"This is when it was taken from you."

He frowned at her. She looked terribly sad all of a sudden.

_What?_

Trixie looked at him with soulful brown eyes, trembling with the first sign of tears.

"Your immortality. It went to _him._"

Lucifer blinked. _Him?_ He turned, looking for some enemy in the shadows, some demon perhaps, or a sibling out for revenge. Finding nothing, he looked back at her.

_Who?_

Trixie's eyes closed as a tear ran down her cheek.

"Your son."


	22. Before the Birth

Chloe stirred slowly, still wrapped in the blissful, joyful aftereffects of Lucifer's light, as someone worked beside her.

Blinking slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled at the woman she'd seen before - the nurse who'd been so kind to check on her.

"Hello," she said, warmly, and she reached out to touch the woman's arm.

The nurse turned. "Oh, hello! You're awake!"

"Mmm," Chloe murmured, stretching a little with a smile. "I'm wonderful."

The lady smiled. "That's good to hear. You were upset last time I was here."

The badge the woman was wearing had 'Samantha' on it, which seemed to be her name.

"Samantha is a beautiful name," Chloe said, looking up at the lady's round face. "I always wanted the name Samantha as a kid. You can do so many things with it - Samantha... Sam... Sama... Saman... Antha... Tha..."

Chloe giggled.

"Riight," the nurse said, carefully. She lifted Chloe's hand to check the pulse and looked at her watch.

Chloe shifted her hand to hold the lady's and smiled again. "You're beautiful."

Samantha's eyes widened. "Um. Thanks?"

"No, you're beautiful. You could have any man," Chloe said, waving the hand the lady was trying to get a pulse from, "any, that you wanted."

The nurse brought the hand back and returned to the pulse check with a smirk. "Not really into guys."

"Any lady you wanted," Chloe added, without missing a beat, "any at all! You're lovely, and sweet, and kind aaaand..."

"Married."

Chloe looked at her, her eyes growing wet. "Awwwww! You have the lady you want and you're in love and that's beautiful. Everything's beautiful."

"Mmmm," Samantha said over her. "Somebody slip you something they shouldn't have?"

Chloe grinned. "The man I love."

The nurse raised an eyebrow, then pointed to the corner of the room. "That guy?"

Following the nurse's finger, Chloe looked.

Dan was sprawled in the chair, head back, mouth open, completely out.

She shook her head. "No, that's my ex. I mean, I love him, but in a friendly way. Not a love love way. He's not the devil."

Samantha pursed her lips awkwardly and nodded slowly. "Gotcha. I think I'll have to track down the man you 'love love' and have a little word with him."

Chloe snorted. "Good luck. He's dead. You can't see him." She looked around the room, hoping for a glance. "Lucifer?" She lowered her voice to a forced whisper that anyone could hear. "Lucifer!" You're in trouble!"

Then she started giggling again, before staring up at Samantha thoughtfully.

"Do you think a relationship with a dead angel can work?"

"Daaamn girl." Samantha laughed. "I really need to figure out what you're on before I set this up again." She turned to the pump, clamping down the syringe before pointing at it. "Do you know why this was on your bed?"

"Yes, yes I do," Chloe said, pointing emphatically. "I was going to kill myself with it." She frowned, staring up at the nurse, as her arm flopped back onto the bed. "That's bad, isn't it."

Samantha nodded, frowning. "Yes, Ms. Decker, that's bad." She turned and disconnected the syringe completely. "I'm going to take this with me. Not sure who left the key in your room, but I'll talk to them. We'll do a blood test to figure out what you're on, and get someone in here to talk to you about how you're feeling. That sound good?"

"That sounds great," Chloe answered, nodding. "You're really kind and lovely. Thanks for being here and taking care of me. I think you're amazing. Do people tell you you're amazing? Are the other patients nice to you? They should be. Let me know if anyone isn't and I'll go talk to them."

The nurse smirked, shaking her head. "You are so hopped up."

"My dead angel-once-devil lover let off a love bomb right where you're standing, so, yeah, I am."

"Holy crap," the woman laughed. "I have no idea what you just said, but... anything else you need?"

Chloe started to shake her head, then her eyes went wide. "Oh! Yeah! I can't reach the bag there, can you hand it to me?"

"Sure." Samantha walked around the bed, and finding the little leather bag on the side table, passed it to Chloe. "Do you need help opening that?"

Chloe fumbled with it for a moment, then nodded.

Samantha undid the leather ties and handed it back. "I wonder what these symbols mean on the side?"

Smiling, Chloe looked at it, not seeing it for what it was at first. Then the meaning opened up in her mind like a flower.

"It's celestial for 'Sister in grief'."

Samantha frowned. "Celestial?"

Chloe nodded. "I'm not sure why I know that, but that's what it means."

She reached into the little pouch with her fingers and felt something cold and hard.

Frowning, she pulled it out.

"Oh no," she whispered, as the room felt suddenly colder.

"Ooh, that's a neat ring," Samantha said. "Is that an onyx?"

Chloe shook her head, the frown deepening. "No."

The bubble of joy she'd been happily basking in burst, as she stared at Lucifer's ring.

The one he was never without.

Amenadiel must have removed it from Lucifer's lifeless hand and given to her.

"Oh no," she whispered again.

_Put it on._

The thought bloomed in her mind and she stared around the room, a brief spark of hope breaking through the grief.

"Lucifer?"

_No._

Her hands moved as she watched, feeling distant from the act. The ring was slipped over her thumb, being too large for anything else.

"That's better," she said, without meaning to.

"It looks good on you," Samantha said.

"Yes," Chloe said, as something else spoke in her place. "You asked what it was? It's a void stone. It holds a crystalline piece of dark matter from before the birth of this universe."

Samantha's mouth twisted. "Good to know. I'm going to go and talk to the docs, now. Be back soon."

"Certainly, Samantha." Chloe's face stretched in a smile. "Thank you for taking such good care of my mother."

"W-what?" Chloe whispered, finding a way to voice her own thoughts as her heart began to pound within her chest.

_Sleep now, Mother. All is well._

She sank, aware that her body wasn't quite hers anymore, watching as her hand turned the ring back and forth in the sterile light.

She sank to a place of utter darkness, cold and directionless, and caught the muttering of the nurse before everything withdrew.

"Crazy people every damn shift..."

* * *

_Thanks for the comments! Folks seemed rather shocked by that last chapter :D_

_I'm away for the weekend, so this is the last post for a little bit (probably Tuesday). Things get a wee bit darker ahead, though the next chapter's a tiny bit silly._

_Leave a comment if you can - they really do make my day. Thanks for reading! :)_


	23. The Gates Of Heaven

_So... crickets after the last chapter. That was a surprise._

_This chapter is quite lighthearted. Much from this point out is not, because very bad things are about to happen. Surprising things, hopefully, but still very bad._

_There's always light at the end of my stories though, and much is usually won along the way. A way I'm still writing._

_If you're enjoying the story so far, let me know._

* * *

Lucifer walked away out over the sinking valley, giving no heed to the lack of ground beneath his feet.

"Lucifer, stop!" Trixie called, a child again, chasing after him.

_No._

He was reeling, and had no sense of destination or purpose. He just needed to move.

To leave.

"Please, son! Please - we must talk!"

_No._

The valley floor lay a couple of hundred yards beneath him. A river snaked through it, wild with rapids, littered with boulders, fringed by trees. The full moon lent its pale light to the entire scene.

He was a _father._

When he looked up again he was walking back the way he came, a moment from bumping into Trixie.

_No,_ he said, and turned on his heel to walk out again.

"Do not make me stop you in place."

_I'm not making you do anything, Father. You are the one with the choices here. Like the choice _not_ to allow in your stupid 60-billion-year plan for the creation of the Anti-Christ._ He leaned back. _Or should that be the Anti-Trixie now?!_

In the next moment he stood hand-in-hand with Trixie before the gates of Heaven.

Struggling to adjust to the transition, he turned to her.

_That was abrupt._

But she ignored him, her focus on the gates.

They weren't quite gates, really. More a portal. One he was very familiar with, having fallen through it.

A man with grey hair, curls close to his head, appeared wearing a white robe.

Lucifer smirked. _Hello, Peter._

Peter frowned, looking from Lucifer to Trixie and back.

"And what business would the foul fiend of the pit have at these gates?" Peter blustered, before gesturing to Trixie. "Who is this? One of your demonspawn in disguise? I am not so easily tricked, King of Lies, Deceiver of the Righteo-"

_Oh, just shut it, Peter,_ Lucifer snapped. _I haven't got time for your pious bullshit right now._ He lifted the hand firmly clasped by Trixie. _This is my Fa-OOW!_

Trixie stomped on his foot. It hurt, more than anything had a right to in heaven.

_Why did you do that?_ he yelled, hoping on his good foot.

Trixie ignored him, turning her most beguiling smile to the apostle. "I've heard so much about you, Saint Peter, and so much about the splendor of heaven that I had to come see. This is my friend, not the enemy. Will you let us in?"

Peter blinked and looked back at Lucifer.

Then down at Lucifer, as Lucifer looked up at him, because Lucifer was now Trixie's size.

Still impeccably dressed in a suit, tailored to fit an eleven-year-old boy.

Lucifer scowled.

"Unbelievable!"

"I guess..." Peter said, as if his mind hadn't quite caught up to the chain of events.

But he stepped back and gestured them through.

"Welcome to Heaven, my children."

"AUGH!" Lucifer cried, stomping through the portal as Trixie giggled behind him.

The world about them coalesced, shimmering in crystalline majesty - a vast landscape of living light populated by multi-faceted structures reflecting every color of the rainbow and beyond.

Despite his irritation, Lucifer smiled.

"I missed this view. It's not quite the same from the back."

Trixie nodded. "Yeah, first impressions are everything."

His smile faded.

"Why am I a _boy_, Father," he asked, tapping his foot against a ground carpeted in a wild spectrum of tall flowers, their crystal petals sparkling against the sky.

Everything about them had a voice - the ground, the sky, the flowers, the lights spinning through everything - all sang with melodic, clear tones of joy.

Trixie shrugged. "I wanted Peter to see you differently."

"Great, he saw me. Change me back."

"Nuh-uh."

The boy's eyes blazed red as he slowly turned to face Trixie.

She giggled.

"You're adorable."

He bared his teeth at her, then frowned, pausing to feel them.

"Braces?! Oh, come ON!"

"You'll stay this shape for a little bit - fewer questions."

Lucifer took a peek down his pants.

"What the _fork?!_"

He blinked.

"What the holy fork? Oh _no_... fork! SHIP! BOLLOCKS!

He smiled.

"Well, at least that one still works."

Trixie rolled her eyes and took him by the hand to lead him towards the city.

Lucifer snatched his hand back. "No! I'm not skipping my merry way into Heaven with you, Father." He paused, and pointed behind them at the swirling portal. "Why did you stop me from saying that to Peter?"

She released a sigh. "I don't want him to know who I am. If he knew he'd be checking on me every moment, seeing if I needed anything, bowing like a fool. He's got a terrible guilt complex - he's never gotten over the whole disavowing thing."

"Huh. You mean the whole 'Who the fork is that Jesus guy, never seen him before in my life' thing?"

Trixie nodded, looking a little sad. "That's why I put him here. Hoped the fresh faces might keep him occupied. Distract him from his pain. He would have gone to Hell if I hadn't done that."

Lucifer crossed his arms. "Oh, I see. So it's okay for Peter, just not okay for every other poor unwashed soul out there, feeling guilty for things outside of their control."

Trixie's face went dangerously neutral. "We're done talking about this now."

Lucifer nodded agreeably. "Okay."

Then he frowned slowly. "What were we talking about?"

"How you have to call me something other than Father here."

"Ah. What do you want me to call you then? Trixie? Spawn? Imp?" He paused for a moment and his eyes narrowed. "How about 'bollocks' for wiping my mind again just now? Father, you are such an _asparagus!_"

"Call me Beatrice. Follow."

With an annoyed sigh, Lucifer came, trying to shake his hand from hers as she tugged him along.

Other souls smiled and passed them as they walked, and he felt their thoughts.

_So young, such a shame_

"I'm 14 billion Earth years old, thank you very much," he snapped, then hissed as Trixie squashed his hand. "Ow! Why are you being so MEAN TO ME!"

"Because you won't shut up!"

"BOLLOCKS!" Lucifer cried out, as they neared the sweeping entrance to the city, where crystal spires rose to the sky and light shimmered over and through everything. Souls in myriads of brilliant colors spun around each other, some looking human, some preferring other shapes, some simply stars of light.

"Bollocks, bollocks, BOLLLLOCKS!" Lucifer continued, as they made their way through each outer ring of the city, past libraries and open air amphitheaters, teaching areas and gathering spaces for those practicing minor acts of creation, and workshops where the eldest souls fashioned new solar systems and planets and the life contained within.

Lucifer smirked. "Outsourcing, Father?"

"Everything is me, Sammy," Trixie sighed. "I don't know why I keep having to say that. This way."

Sighing himself, he followed, and continued experimenting with words.

"Bollocks, bullship, asparagus, motherforker, cant." He frowned. "Cant. C A N T. Dammit, I'm not saying cant!"

They reached the innermost ring of the city and approached the broad door of carved crystal leading into the main hall of Heaven.

Two angels flanked the doorway, unsmiling, as they approached. Hadraniel on the left, Zophiel on the right. They were impressively dressed - flowing robes and all - and beautiful beyond reproach.

"Twit," Lucifer stated, pointing at Hadraniel, before pointing definitively at Zophiel. "Cant."

Then he stomped the ground. "Forking Hell!"

Trixie snorted back laughter and waved to his siblings. "Hello!"

_Hello, child,_ they said in unison.

"Oh, that's impressive, that," Lucifer said. "How long have you both been working on that whole speaking at the same time thing?"

Trixie covered his mouth with her hand and addressed the angels. "Can we go in?"

_No, child._

Trixie winked at them. "How about now?"

_Father,_ Zophiel said, bowing deeply. _We did not realize._

_Our apologies, Father._ Hadraniel bowed just as deeply, then raised a slender hand to point at Lucifer. _Who is this?_

Lucifer licked Trixie's palm - when she jerked away with a squeal he stepped forward, his chin high.

"I'm Lucifer, britches!"

He winced then, his shoulders slumping. "Oh for fork's sake, Dad, can you lighten up on the censoring?"

Hadraniel scowled deeply. _You are not welcome here, brother._

Zophiel echoed the scowl. _You are not._

Trixie sighed.

"Yes he is."

The angels blinked, looked at each other, and slowly smiled. _Brother, welcome! It has been a very long time. You must tell us what you have done._

"Exactly 389,732 humans and demons, some multiple times," Lucifer said bluntly, before pushing his way past them.

Into the Great Hall of Heaven.


	24. A Sudden Weight

"Dan?"

Dan woke abruptly, snapping his mouth shut. Sitting bolt upright in his chair, he looked about himself blearily, feeling a desert where his mouth had been and desperately needing a glass of water.

Chloe lay in the hospital bed across from him, frowning.

The light outside the windows was dull, suggesting rain at the trail end of the day.

"Chloe? What's up?"

He bounced up from the seat, surprised at how sore he was. As if he'd been in the same position for a long time.

Scratching his head, he looked back at the chair, trying to remember when he'd decided to take a nap.

He drew up a blank.

"Have I been there long, Chloe?"

"Help me, Dan," Chloe whispered.

Dan turned and moved quickly to her side, reaching to take her hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling a quick rush of fear. She had her head pushed back against the cushion, and her eyes were showing a lot of white.

She shifted her hand from his, and he saw the ring on her thumb. It looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Help," she said again, as her eyes grew wider. "Something's really wrong, Dan."

A little freaked, he grasped her shoulder and stroked his thumb there. "What? Are you in pain? Do you want me to get the nurse?"

Something changed then, as the muscles of her neck loosened and she rolled her shoulders with a smile.

"No," Chloe said softly, closing her eyes. "I'm fine, Daniel, thank you for your concern."

"Uh..." Dan said, wondering what just happened. "You didn't seem so fine a minute ago."

"Mmmm," she hummed, and nodded, before opening her eyes again. Something about the way she looked at him was odd.

"All better now. How do you feel?"

Frowning, he pulled back. "I'm... fine. I'm... a little confused."

"By what?"

"By..." he looked back at the chair, then around the room, and finally at Chloe. "Was I sleeping a long time?"

Chloe lifted her hand and stroked the ring on her thumb. She smiled, her eyes still focused on the black stone.

"Yes."

Dan's brow furrowed, following her gaze. "Where'd you get the ring? I didn't see you with it before?"

She raised it and splayed her fingers, allowing the silver to catch the light. "It was Lucifer's."

"Oh! I knew it looked familiar." Nodding, he took a closer look. The stone within was black and featureless. "What kind of gem is that?"

Chloe folded her hands against her stomach. And that seemed odd too. Was it a trick of the light or was her belly bigger?

"A very old one," she said, drawing his eye back.

She smiled.

Dan frowned. Looking into Chloe's eyes was strange. He couldn't put any kind of feeling to it either. It was just... strange.

"Are you sure you're okay, Chloe? You're acting a little weird."

"I'm fine," she said with a soft smile. "But you look tired."

He yawned, widely, then blinked, wondering where that had come from. "No, I'm good. I just had a big nap."

"You did. You look like you need more."

Dan sagged against the bed, feeling a sudden weight upon his limbs that made little sense. Frowning, he looked up at Chloe, into those eyes that didn't feel right. "What's going on?"

"Time to go back to sleep, Daniel. The chair is very comfortable, wouldn't you agree?"

He turned to look, and indeed the chair looked like the best place to rest for a moment. How odd. He could have sworn he'd just gotten out of it.

His head dipped, and he caught himself, looking at Chloe with an apologetic smile. "Yeah, sorry Chlo, I'm beat."

"I completely understand," she said warmly. Then she reached out to grasp his arm before he left. The grip was strong and cold. "One more thing, Daniel."

"Yeah?" he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Who's Trixie?"

He frowned, and opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't think of what to say. He shook his head to clear it and bounced the name around a bit, looking for a face.

He had nothing.

"Don't know. She a nurse here?"

Chloe's expression shifted, from an unconcerned pleasantness to dawning horror.

"Dan, no! Don't say that! Trixie's our daughter!"

He staggered back, his sluggish mind recoiling from what his ex had just said.

_Daughter?_

What the hell was she talking about?

"What?!"

Chloe's eyes squeezed shut as her mouth twisted in a grimace.

Then she relaxed again.

"Oh, you are strong, mother," she whispered with a grin. "I am very proud."

Dan stumbled from the bed, desperately seeking the oasis of the chair. "W-what's going on?"

Eyes of ice sought him through Chloe's, and his breath misted before his face as he sagged against the cushion.

"Sleep."

The lights went out.


	25. Untethered

_Returning to Lucifer and Trixie in heaven here. Thanks to those who left comments :) and, as always, thanks for reading!_

_This one will be a surprise._

* * *

Song rose about them as soon as they entered - a multitude of voices raised in joy and love cascading over and through them as they stopped briefly within the great hall.

Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, allowing the song to wash over his soul.

It felt _good._ Like a deep celestial hug.

It had been so terribly long.

He hadn't yet been allowed back here since coming home, which is partly why he'd decided to check on Chloe and spend time with her.

This space, filled with the radiance of his siblings and the most evolved of all souls, had been his true home before everything went to shit.

He understood why it went to shit, of course, and given the chance to start over, he would likely cause the same shit again.

It was who he was, after all. The constant desire for more.

"Father, how could you create me to be like this and not expect my disobedience?" he asked in his eleven-year-old voice.

There was no answer.

He turned, looking about the wide space, circling a immense jeweled dais of light in the very center, and opening to a ring of doorways on the far side of the hall.

Trixie was storming her way towards one of the doorways.

"Oh, for fork's sake," Lucifer snapped, and rushed after her.

When he reached the door, it was ajar, and his Father already inside.

He pushed his way through, entering a room he was quite familiar with.

The Hall of Records.

Scrolls of light filled walls and shelves of crystal, and as he watched new scrolls appeared in the air, writing themselves before falling in a space newly made for them.

"Father?" he called, not seeing the child's form immediately.

Then he caught the pink of her t-shirt through the fractal lens of a nearby shelf, and walked over.

She was digging through scrolls, scanning and dropping each one.

"Too new," she murmured, before looking up and following a passage through darker crystal.

Lucifer smirked. "Father, aren't you everything? Shouldn't you know exactly where everything is?"

Trixie blew a raspberry at him, and pushed further back, to where the crystal turned to opaque obsidian.

Lucifer shivered, without understanding why.

She held her hand up, and a scroll rose from a pile in the darkest corner and drifted to her hand.

Frowning, Lucifer stepped back. He did not like the feel of this.

"It's your scroll, son. That's why."

She opened it, and Lucifer turned away. Tears rose to his eyes, and he found himself crying.

He didn't know why.

Trixie sighed. "That's what I thought."

He looked back to find her looking at him sadly.

"You understand what these records are, yes?"

Clearing his throat, he nodded. "Of course, a living record of everything that was, is, and will be for that soul."

She nodded. "This scroll says that you are still alive at this moment. You are living with Chloe and I. That you live with Chloe until her death at age 84, upon which you both return here."

Lucifer closed his eyes. The mention of Chloe dying was awful enough, without the implications of the scroll's inaccuracy.

"But... that's not right."

"No."

Fear rose in him, and he opened his eyes. "What does this mean, Father?"

"It means that reality is changing, Samael, and your son is the cause." She smirked. "So, I guess that wasn't true, what I said before."

Lucifer stared at her, unsure what to do with the information he'd been given. "What?"

She looked up at him. "That I am everything. I'm definitely not your son. And you are the first casualty of his claim on reality. He will continue to reweave what he encounters to suit his goal."

"Which is?!"

Trixie shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not him."

"Father," Lucifer started, squeezing his eyes shut. "How did this happen? I mean, there've been rumors of an Anti-Christ since the bible was written, surely you had something in place to prevent this happening?"

"Yes," she said, nodding sadly. "I had you."

Grimacing, Lucifer made an aggravated sound. "This is growing awfully circular, Dad. The Anti-Christ is supposed to be the son of the devil. Hello!" he cried with forced cheerfulness, pointing at himself, "I _am_ the devil! Surely preventing me from having SEX with a woman who made me vulnerable would have been a bloody good start?!"

Trixie shook her head. "You are incompatible, Lucifer. You cannot mate with a human."

Lucifer took that personally. "I can so mate with a human. I mated all over the place with many thousands of humans, many times! Also - what of my brother and Linda? They had a child!"

She nodded with a smile. "Yes. But Amenadiel was completely mortal at that moment. You have always been a celestial, until that moment your son chose to come into being. He took your immortality to ensure his conception."

"No!" Lucifer shouted, and turned on his heel to leave. "I am not listening to this ridiculousness any more! I am tired of being the scapegoat for everything that goes wrong, and I am leaving!"

But he didn't go anywhere. He stayed in place, one foot raised to walk.

"Father," he growled. "Stop this."

"Your son is the manifestation of an entity that is as old as I am, Lucifer. You have been its warden for millennia. This is what I meant by 'I had you'."

He turned back to his Father. "Warden?"

"Where is your ring, Samael?"

Lucifer frowned. "The ring I was created with?"

Trixie nodded.

"Amenadiel removed it and left it to Chloe."

Trixie winced.

"That is less than ideal."

"Is she in danger? Is he going to hurt her?" Lucifer turned again, his entire being thrumming at that moment in fear for the woman he loved. He tried to unfurl his wings, to fly to Earth, and was swiftly reminded of how very dead he was.

It didn't matter. He would be there in the next moment with a thought.

"Sammy," Trixie said quietly. "You can't help her like that."

Stabbing his small fists by his sides, he glared back at her. "Then help me, Father. Restore me. I know you have the power to do so."

Frowning, she took his hand in her own, and pulled him with her as she left the Hall of Records and returned to the main hall. The celestial host's song rose about them, drawing away his fear for Chloe, his concern over his son's work on the world. A small part of him knew that if he stayed here for much longer, he would have no desire to go anywhere else.

"Your body, where is it?" Trixie asked, tugging his small tailored sleeve to draw his attention.

He blinked at her. "Father, you should know these things?"

"Son," Trixie snapped at him, "I'm not linked to the reality in which you're dead. Your body is obscured from me. Where was it placed?!"

Lucifer shuffled uncomfortably. "In the Meadow of the Last Age, Father."

Trixie's expression melted to a soft smile. "Awww. That's a good spot. You and Amenadiel spent a lot of time there when the universe was young."

He sighed, and nodded quietly. It was one of his favorite places. Or had been. He'd not been back since returning to heaven, having no desire to see his corpse lying in the midst of it.

"Come then, Sammy."

She lifted her hand, and he took it, and the world shimmered about them.

Light flooded his dead senses then, a shifting kaleidoscope of greens, purples and reds - patterns falling through the undulating leaves of the crystalline trees around a meadow of tall, multi-faceted grasses.

"Oh, Sammy," Trixie whispered, her young voice on the edge of breaking. "There you are."

The grasses chimed and swayed about them, leading their eyes to the raised platform of red stone at its center. Lights sparkled about the platform and the body that lay there, utterly white and still.

A few souls drifted by, curious, their star forms shimmering to and around the body.

"Yeah, have a good gawk, why don't you!" Lucifer yelled, a part of him in such deep anguish he could barely keep from crying.

Trixie stepped reverently towards the platform of stone.

The sight was not a welcome one, but he moved forward to follow, avoiding looking at the body until they stood only feet away.

There was no corruption in Heaven, so he was as he had been on Earth - his face battered and broken, a small hole in his chest. Everything else had been cleaned though - the dirt from the Guardian's efforts, the grit and sand from the riverbank and his fall.

The robe he'd been given at his making, worn before he'd rebelled, was folded neatly at his feet, and a white cloth draped over his pelvis.

A crystal flower lay against his chest.

His brother had been so kind with this, that it hurt all the more.

Trixie moved forward with a choked cry and wrapped her arms around his body's head and chest.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," she murmured, resting her forehead against the corpse's cheek as she started to cry. "I'm so sorry."

Lucifer frowned, his own mimicked throat growing tight. But he gave a small wave. _I'm still here, Dad._

The lack of a true voice made him look down. He was his normal dead self again. No longer a boy.

"My son," she whispered, stroking the side of this face that had been so wounded by Remiel. "Look what they did to you."

Lucifer sighed, not wanting any of this. _Hurry up and heal that thing, stitch us together again, and I'll do my best to save the day._

Trixie had gathered the body's hand in her own and was holding it against her cheek. She did not turn to look at him.

"It's not that simple, Sammy."

He frowned, not liking the sound of that at all.

_What do you mean, it's not that simple? You did it for Lazarus?_

"Lazarus' path was still within my reality, son. His scroll held the nature of his resurrection. Yours does not."

_Then change the scroll, Dad!_

Trixie turned to him, bereft.

"I can't." Her eyes swam with tears as she lowered her gaze. "I have to write a new one."

Lucifer blinked and took a step back.

_What?_

Swallowing against her tears, Trixie grasped the corpse's hand again. "I have to destroy your scroll and create a new one." Her gaze finally rose to him. "I have to remake you, Samael."

_But,_ he whispered, _that means that will I cease to exist..._

She nodded slowly, her gaze falling to the corpse again. "For a moment, yes. Then you'll be reborn."

_But I won't remember who I AM, Father! I won't be ME anymore!_ Horrified, he took another step back. _You would undo me, Father?_

"Son, you've already been undone," Trixie sobbed. "Your kind were never meant to die. And your soul will not last, untethered from your scroll. From me. You will weaken. You will fade. You will cease to exist over time no matter what I do." Weeping openly, she held the corpse's hand with a white-knuckled grip. "Most of you is here, son. I've already lost you."

_No,_ he said, shaken to his core.

He turned and started to walk away, the view of the trees wavering through his mimicked tears. _No._

He could not, and would not believe this.

"Goodbye, son," Trixie whispered behind him.

Lucifer ran, the memory of a heart thudding in his chest, remembering Chloe's face beneath his, smiling up at him as their lips met for a kiss.

_I love you, Chloe! Chloe Jane Decker, I lo-_


	26. Remade

A breeze passed the space where Lucifer's soul had been a moment before, sending a wave of song through the grass.

Trixie stared at the space for a moment, her hand still clamped about her son's dead hand. Her eyes distant.

Lucifer's soul had been reclaimed.

The young girl released the hand beside her with a sigh, and leaned over to place a kiss on Lucifer's dead cheek.

Then God shed the child's shape, and blazed over the meadow with a cry that stilled every celestial and wandering soul in heaven.

Every song stopped.

God released another cry, and dissolved the body beneath into light.

Matter and soul reclaimed then, God performed an act of creation unlike any performed for millennia.

He made an new angel.

He reweaved his son's body from his own light atop the stone platform, careful to keep the same form, the same shape.

But he strengthened it, removing a key vulnerability that had existed before.

The body lay before him an empty shell, inanimate, awaiting the last piece.

God bound the soul to a new scroll that wrote itself in the Hall of records, then meshed the flickering light within the body just made.

New songs rose from the hosts of heaven, and a breeze swept through the meadow, stirring the chimes of the grasses and flowers.

**BREATHE**

The body took in a deep, relaxed breath.

**WAKE**

His new son's eyes opened. The dark orbs took in the space above without blinking.

**YOU ARE SAMAEL**

**I am Samael**, the man atop the platform said.

**STAND BEFORE ME**

The man sat up, swung his legs off the platform and stood. He looked about himself with a young wonder.

**What is this place?** Samael asked, scanning the trees, the sky and the ground beneath his feet.

**YOUR HOME**

Samael smiled.

**It is beautiful**

Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth and began to sing, joining in the song of the hosts, and weaving intricate harmonies with the land about him.

**SAMAEL**

The man stopped singing and opened his eyes. **Yes, Father?**

**CLOTHE YOURSELF AND FOLLOW**

**Yes**

Samael turned and pulled the robe from the platform. He briefly drew his hand down the soft fabric, enjoying the way the light refracted from the materials. The colors shifted as he pulled it on - warm golds giving way to shimmering deep red accents. It fit him perfectly and he looked down at himself with a smile.

**I am beautiful**

God watched his son with love.

Some things would never change.

**FOLLOW**

He rose above his home, above all of creation, until the stars and planets of the universe were arrayed before him, spinning in their endless cycles.

Samael's wingbeats followed, and his son drew level with him.

**EARTH**

God gestured, and Samael knew everything at that moment about the tiny blue planet.

**Earth**, Samael repeated.

**A DARKNESS HAS RISEN THERE**

Samael nodded.

**YOU WILL DESTROY IT**

**I will, Father**

**IT WILL SAY IT KNOWS YOU - IT LIES**

**I understand, Father**

**SAVE THE MOTHER, OR BRING HER SOUL HOME TO ME**

Samael smiled. **Of course, Father. I will strive to save her**

**GO NOW**

God felt a pang then, unlike any he had ever felt, as his son left his side and delved between dimensions to Earth.

There was little point in resuming the small life that was Trixie now, for if Samael succeeded in his task, he would return home, no doubt to sing an endless song with the others. He was too new to know any different.

It hurt.

He missed his wayward, defiant son.

This Samael was certainly just as powerful, with the same gifts and talents, the same base seeds of personality.

But he was merely a copy, and a blank one at that.

The Samael he had cast out, then strived so hard to reach, and spent such small delightful moments with, was gone.

God's anger pulsed out in a wave across the universe.

He could crush the Earth about the child, but it would not fix the problem. The consciousness of the Third had woken and would not be snuffed so easily.

The ring had proven an effective prison held in check by Samael's talents, until Samael had so saturated himself in the woman his energies had been dampened enough for the entity to circumvent them.

His son's mortality might have been the fault of the Third, but God could not deal with him directly.

Another held a greater share of blame.

He pulled her from Heaven and placed her before him.

Remiel gasped and curled about herself, closing her wings tight.

**I am sorry, Father!** she cried from within her nest of feathers. **I am sorry! I should not have done this, I know!**

**YOU SOUGHT REVENGE FOR URIEL**

**Yes, Father**

**DO YOU FEEL JUSTICE HAS BEEN SERVED**

Remiel opened slightly, drawing back her wings. Tears fell from her eyes and she lowered her gaze.

**No, Father**

**YOU WISH FOR HIM TO BE UNMADE AS URIEL WAS**

She nodded hesitantly. **I do, Father. I am lesser for that, I know**

**YOU WERE HURT AND ACTED FROM YOUR PAIN**

Remiel placed her head in her hands. **Yes**, she whispered.

**SAMAEL WAS UNMADE**

She raised her head slowly. **What?**

**I COULD NOT RESTORE HIM AS HE WAS**

Remiel went white. **I did not mean for this... I did not truly want... Oh no...**

**YOU DID**

She bowed her head, then nodded.

**What is your punishment, Father?**

**I CANNOT REMAKE URIEL, REMIEL, I AM SORRY. HIS PATH WAS FULFILLED**

Her head bounced up, the news unexpected.

**I... I know that Father**

**SAMAEL WAS UNNATURALLY SEVERED FROM HIS PATH  
****HE HAS BEEN REMADE  
****YOU WILL AID HIM NOW ON EARTH  
****THAT IS ALL**

Remiel swallowed, then nodded.

**Yes, Father**

And away she flew.

God watched, satisfied.

* * *

_Bold speech - celestial tongue, for those popping into this chapter out of the blue (which I sincerely hope nobody does). I'm probably going to post another chapter today, as this isn't the best to stop on. Also, it kind of cracks me up how GOD SPEAKS LIKE DEATH FROM PRATCHETT'S DISCWORLD SERIES, WHICH ARE AWESOME, BTW, DO READ THEM. And also, anyone who may have read my Warm Bodies series - there are similarities here with Samael's reanimation. ;)_

_Anyhoo! I wonder if anyone can guess where the newly remade Samael might go first?_


	27. The First of Your Kind

_(this is the second of two chapters I posted today - make sure you catch the one before)_

* * *

When the elevator doors opened to the Lux penthouse suite - after two different security codes had been entered, because she was so done with people just walking in - Mazikeen did not immediately exit.

Someone was here.

She felt it first, drawing out a curved blade as she pressed her back against one wall.

Her senses were screaming celestial.

Not Amenadiel.

She knew his feel and scent and neither were here.

This was something new. Something she'd not sensed before.

The hairs rose on her arms.

**Come forward**

Mazikeen gasped.

That voice!

How long had it been since she'd heard _that_ voice, speaking that tongue?

It pulled her from her refuge, even as every instinct told her that something was wrong.

She stopped dead.

Standing before one of the carved stone walls from Mesopotamia was a winged figure in a long gold robe.

Under shortly cropped and curly black hair, dark eyes tracked her intently. Clean-shaven skin framed his unsmiling mouth.

"Lucifer?!" she cried.

If she had been anyone else, she would have dropped the knife in her hand.

Instead she gripped it tighter.

This was not possible.

Lucifer was dead! She'd seen his corpse! She'd laughed at his spirit two days ago!

But... he was standing before her now?

How?!

He tilted his head and his dark eyes took in her measure.

Her skin crawled under his gaze.

It didn't feel right.

The look he was giving her had no familiarity to it at all.

**Why are you here**

The words of the angelic tongue made her wince, and she waited for the glasses and bottles on the bar to stop rattling before daring to speak.

"This is my place now, Lucifer, you know that." She gestured with the blade towards him. "How are you alive?! And why the Hell are you dressed like that?!"

He frowned.

**Why do you keep saying**, he switched to English, "Lucifer?"

Maze's heart clenched within her chest as her skin went ice cold.

He had said that word with no accent at all.

Was this a game? A test?

"Lucifer, you were shot, ho-"

**My name is Samael**

Maze swallowed. A light sweat beaded on her brow.

**Why are you _here,_ demon**, the angel asked, taking one step forward as his voice lowered.

Maze spun back into the elevator and hit the button to close the door, drawing her blade up.

_My name is Samael_

Lucifer had said that as she'd stood over him just after he'd Fallen, lying broken and burned in the crater he'd made.

Her answer had been short:

_I don't care_

But she very much cared now.

Because if Lucifer was calling himself Samael, and wearing angelic robes, then she was in trouble.

The doors began to close, and Samael's impassive face appeared between them, his eyes glowing in flame.

The flames were brightly gold.

His hands clasped the doors, his fingers crumpled the frames, and with the scream of tearing metal, he tore the doors from the wall.

With a scream of her own, she struck with the Hell blade, aiming for the thick meat of his shoulder - wanting to stop him not kill him - but he caught her wrist on the down stroke and twisted it, breaking it and snapping the bones in her forearm like twigs.

She swallowed the pain and caught the knife dropped by her useless hand, then sliced the blade up where his throat should have been, no longer wishing to be kind.

But he pulled back from her blade, yanked her from the elevator, and used the momentum to throw her across the room.

Twisting to avoid hitting the stone wall with her head, she caught the blow against her shoulder instead, dislocating the broken arm.

Feeling him near, she whipped out with the blade with a cry of pain, seeking to cut the meat of his legs and bring him down.

A thunderous blow came from nowhere against her temple.

The world flashed in agony and stuttered to silence.

And then she was choking as he drew her into the air.

He intercepted her final blow and plucked the blade from her hand, before tightening his grasp.

And as she choked he studied it, turning it under the light.

She kicked at him, hoping for a soft spot.

Without looking up, he threw her back against the stone pillar hard enough to crack it.

The world blinked out again, but she fought her way up, and staggering to her feet, she drew the second blade from the sheath against her hip.

Samael punched her in the throat, crushing her trachea.

She dropped.

The angel snatched the blade from her spasming hand and tossed it aside. Slowly, he crouched over her as she gasped and clawed at her own throat.

**You are the first of your kind I have met, demon**

She shook her head against his words, trying desperately to speak as the edges of her vision began to fray.

Samael's hand drew towards her neck as her struggles grew weaker.

She knew then that she was about to die.

It was a fucking disappointment - she'd been promised a death in battle against an army, and here she was gasping on the floor of a penthouse?! What happened?!

There was a soft swell of warmth and a light that obliterated her vision, and when his hand withdrew, she could breathe again.

Drawing in sucking breaths, she savored the air as her mind struggled to grasp what'd happened.

He'd _healed_ her.

It didn't make any sense... Lucifer hadn't healed a single soul since his Fall...

**I sensed your presence here and had to come. Are you allied with the darkness**

Maze blinked up at him from the floor, understanding none of this.

"Lucifer... what _happened_ to you?" she asked, staring up into eyes that held nothing of her once-lover.

The man who'd ruled Hell, with her help.

Her King.

He just wasn't _there._

**ANSWER MY QUESTION**, Samael shouted, with the full force of his voice, and Maze screamed as one of her eardrums burst and the bottles over the bar shattered, showering them with glass.

Then slowly, she started to laugh.

"Allied... with the darkness?" she spat, the laughter growing bolder. "Oh, Lucifer, what did they do to you?"

**My name, demon, is Samael**

**And it is time to take you back where you belong**

All mirth sank from her in an instant. She looked up at him with wide eyes and struggled to rise.

"What? Wait, I belong here!"

Samael grasped her about the chest and waist and stood as she tried to free herself, drawing his arms around her so tightly she couldn't fight back.

She could only face the bar where they'd shared so many drinks together, now shattered and broken. Kicking did nothing, as he dragged her out to the balcony, and the warm, dry, LA breezes stirred around them both.

"PLEASE!" she screamed over the city, thrashing against him. "DON'T! THIS IS MY HOME NOW, PLE-"

With a sudden beat of his white wings, they were gone.


	28. Bodies Are So Fragile

_Hi! Thanks for the comments, to those who left them! :) Was lovely to hear your thoughts, which of course were mostly along the lines of 'Oh noes, Maze!'._

_We're getting close to where I'm writing this story still, so there are going to be longer gaps between when I post these chapters. You might want to fav the story, if you want alerts when they're posted._

_As always, thanks for reading. Leave a comment if you can. They never fail to make my day._

_PS: Lucifer is not lost. That's all I'll say about that. :D_

* * *

Chloe lay on her bed at home, staring up at the ceiling. The light was dancing across the surface above her in beautiful patterns, refracted through the crystal hummingbird on her dresser.

She screamed, then abruptly stopped, and found herself looking at the ceiling again.

Something had hurt so terribly at that moment... but now it was gone?

She raised a hand to her forehead, hoping to soothe the dull headache she had.

Her forehead was drenched with sweat.

When she lowered her hand the room exploded in activity - nurses, doctors bustling about her, Dan squeezing her hand. Her legs were bent and open and oh God it _hurt!_

Chloe screamed again as her insides twisted and everything down there broke-

-but then it was gone, and she was lying on her bed, taking a midday nap and the light was playing on the ceiling.

It was really pretty.

Beads of sweat fell into her ears at that moment - gritting her teeth she shook her head against the bed as another agonizing wave of pain washed over her.

She needed to push! Groaning, she doubled over with the effort of it, releasing another agonized cry.

And then everything was calm. She was lying on her bed at home.

And the ceiling was dancing in light.

_Your will is immense, mother. Please stop fighting me, I'm trying to save you pain._

"GET OUT OF ME!" she roared on the cusp of another scream as the real room snapped back - Dan was all teeth in a panicked grin, the doctors and nurses were yelling at each other, covered in bright splotches of blood -

\- but the light shimmered on the ceiling at home and everything was okay.

_I'm trying, but human bodies are so fragile and in my impatience I got a little bigger than I'd meant to._

Something tore horribly and she gasped, arching against someone down there that she couldn't see, feeling the ever constant rushing and panicked cries even as the room around her stayed mellow and lazy and oh God, this felt very bad, something was wrong, please... help...

_Perhaps this might work._

The door opened and in walked Lucifer, dressed impeccably, smiling warmly.

"Lucifer?" she moaned.

"That's a lot of blood!" Dan's voice tore through the space.

But she ignored him and watched Lucifer as he walked, without stuttering, with absolute solidity, to her side.

"Lucifer?" she asked, her mouth pulling into a hesitant smile.

_That's working well. Good. Enjoy mother._

He grasped her hand, and she almost cried. He was solid - beautifully solid and warm.

He sat on the bed beside her, still smiling, and his other hand moved to cradle the side of her head, warmly stroking there as she cried.

"I.. I thought you died," she whispered, crying openly.

"Oh God, what is that?!"

Lucifer shook his head and smiled, gently brushing her tears away.

"Stop that bleeding!"

"I can't stitch this! She needs surgery!"

"What the fuck _is_ that?!"

Chloe's gaze drifted in fear as the voices rose in volume.

But Lucifer drew her back, his eyes softening, and his mouth lowered to hers.

Everything was okay if he was here, wasn't it?

She didn't hurt anymore either.

_Yes, the worst is done, mother. I am in awe of your strength. I will remember you fondly._

Lucifer's lips pressed against hers, soft and warm...

...but it wasn't Lucifer's mouth...

Chloe's eyes snapped open.

Dan was above her, crying, pulling back from their kiss.

"We're going to lose her!" someone shouted.

"Chloe, hold on for me, okay? I don't want to lose you too!"

She swallowed. Her heart was struggling in her chest as people moved about her, attaching bags of blood to multiple lines now, as someone worked down there...

...and something stood watching from the corner, surrounded by swirling tendrils of shadow.

A boy, covered in blood, his mouth stretched in a smile beneath blazing red eyes.

"Hi, mom."

Chloe started shaking, her mind locking on the sight as a part of her started screaming inside.

"Shit! Open those lines! We are LOSING HER!"

"They don't see me quite like you do, at least, not now," the boy said. He pointed where the man worked. "I'm sorry I made such a mess. I got a little... overexcited." He smiled again. "Please say hello to the Second for me when you see him in his little Heaven. Tell him I'll be by soon."

Chloe's shaking grew worse, and her eyes drifted from the boy, to the window and the growing light there.

It was glorious and warm. Something about that light tugged at some deep part of her. A part that wanted to be free of a body in ruin.

The light grew brighter still.

A shadow fell across the glass.

To a chorus of screams, the window exploded inward.

Before them all stood a figure wreathed in light and fire, flanked by arching white wings.

And eyes of golden flame settled on her own.


	29. The Stranger

Chloe sucked in a breath, staring up at the burning figure as the rest of the room exploded in chaos.

Dan whipped around with a shout, drawing his gun up - the figure snatched the gun from her ex's hand in one smooth motion, crushed it, and tapped Dan in the face.

He dropped like a stone as the figure turned to the boy wreathed in shadow in the corner.

Chloe drew in a smaller breath, feeling as if she were sinking away from everything that was happening.

Nobody was working around her any more - they'd all fled from the room.

"Father," the boy said, stepping forward. "how unexpected, how are you? In the flesh again, I see. New flesh?"

The angel, its body still wreathed in brilliant flames, made a cacophonous sound - layered tones of deeply resonant bass notes and crystalline frequencies that shook walls about them.

Chloe's laboring heart stuttered and jumped.

"Of course you're my dad," the boy laughed, before pointing at Chloe with a hand that dripped blood. "That's mom, remember? You mated with her and I used you both to come here."

Chloe felt tugged towards the light in the window again. The blinds flapped against the broken frame with a sudden breeze and the air felt wonderful.

If she could just get out of this torn shell, she'd be on her way.

The voice of the burning angel came again, washing over the room in overwhelming waves.

"I'm not lying! I don't lie, Father - I take after you."

She could hear the sharp grin around the words.

"Mother's dying, Father. Shouldn't you do something about that? I can wait here if you like. I might make some new friends."

The figure's voice rose in command, drawing another laugh from the boy.

"I already said I wasn't going anywhere. Although... I'm hungry. Maybe I'll go to the cafe?"

Chloe struggled to rise with leaden limbs, feeling a sudden desperate urge for movement. Something gushed from her as she shifted, something warm and wet, and the strength she'd mustered leached away.

"Any second now, I think. Bye, Mom!"

There was a rush of movement as Chloe took another shallow breath - arms thrust beneath her back and knees, arms of light that didn't burn at all. She was pulled up against a body that felt so familiar she almost cried.

More movement followed, too swift for her to grasp, with the sound of wings beating the air.

An angel was holding her and they were going to go to heaven and she'd see Lucifer again and that was so wonderful...

"...he was good..." she mumbled against the figure, needing at that moment to try and change the mind of all of these stuffy know-it-alls. "None of you could see it...he didn't deserve... what you did..."

There was a soft rebuff of air, the rustle of feathers, and the feeling of landing on solid ground.

"Who do you speak of?" the angel asked in a voice that made something inside her ache, though she couldn't place why.

It didn't matter anymore - she had no more breath to answer.

She was lowered to a soft, cool surface.

Warm hands pressed against her head and body.

Light filled the space around her, swelling in strength as her body grew deliciously warm. Her feet tingled, suddenly hers again, and she pointed them in a magnificent stretch that ended in a yawn.

The hand against her body withdrew. The hand against her forehead stayed for a moment, the thumb gently stroking there.

Chloe took a deep, easy breath. Smiling, she opened her eyes to a broad canopy of trees and the silhouette of the figure, no longer burning bright.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

The face above her promptly stole her breath again.

_Oh my god!_

Lucifer was kneeling over her, his wings arched protectively, wearing clothing she didn't recognize.

His hand was solid against her head, his mouth set in the smallest smile. His dark gaze was locked to hers.

Chloe drew in a rushed breath and grasped his hand desperately, squeezing it, kneading it, reassuring herself of his realness, his solidity, before she pulled herself up, her hands grasping his arm, his shoulders, his cheek.

Lucifer's smile faded and his brows pinched in confusion as she started to cry.

And cradling his face, as the tears spilled down her own, she drew in to kiss him.

Their lips touched.

Chloe froze.

For Lucifer didn't do anything at all but watch her, as his wings slowly lowered behind him.

She pulled back, her tears drifting down around a hesitant smile, and she stroked the clean-shaven skin of his cheek, her eyes searching for the wound that had been there. There was no bruise, no broken bone, no mark at all. She ran her fingers through his wiry hair where the bullet wound had been, delighting at the feeling.

God, she'd missed it.

There was no wound whatsoever.

She looked down at his chest and the strange golden material there, and gently lay her hand over his heart where he'd been shot.

He watched her intently throughout, smiling softly, his eyes moving to her lips, the top of her head, her brow... taking in the entirety of her, and finding her gaze again.

"Did they heal you?" she whispered, feeling uncertain, and oddly a little scared.

His brow flickered at the question.

Then she blinked and looked down at herself, for hadn't she been dying a minute ago?!

The hospital gown she was wearing was covered in blood from the waist down... but she was whole.

Her eyes darted to him. "Did you heal me?!"

A smile stretched on his face.

"Of course," he said, his voice stiffly formal. "I was sent to save you."

Chloe's mouth grew dry.

"What happened to your accent?" she whispered.

He frowned. "Accent?" His eyes danced away and returned. "A style of speaking related to location or class? Do I not have one?"

She jerked her hand back.

Why did he sound like a dictionary?!

He smiled at her. "Why did you..." he paused and seemed to hunt for the word, "kiss me?"

With a strangled breath, Chloe pushed away from him.

He frowned, his eyes searching hers. "I have frightened you. I did not mean to."

"You're not Lucifer," she whispered, her heart clenching at the words.

His frown deepened. "You are the second to use that name around me. I do not understand why. Do I look like this 'Lucifer'?"

She nodded slowly. "You look _exactly_ like him. Who are you? A brother of his?"

That would make sense, that he might have a brother similar to a twin.

But that opened a hole on her chest because it meant that Lucifer was still dead. Still a disembodied soul.

Her gaze fell as tears rushed her and she almost missed what he said in return.

"I do not believe so, but I have not yet met all of my siblings." He sat back against his legs and placed his hand against his chest. "I am Samael. It is an honor to meet you."

Goosebumps rose in a wave across her arms.

"Samael?"

He nodded and smiled. "I... I like the way you say my name." His brow darted in briefly then smoothed. "I find your company... pleasant."

Chloe clamped a hand over her mouth.

This _was_ Lucifer.

Lucifer had somehow been... reset? Turned back into the good angel? Brainwashed and made to forget everything related to who he had been?

Including her?

"What did they do to you?" she whispered, slowly shifting back to his side.

It was his turn to recoil, as she reached out to take his hand.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

"Why don't you remember who you are?!"

Samael frowned and watched her. "I remember who I am. I am Samae-"

"LUCIFER," she yelled, grasping his hand desperately. "You're Lucifer! They did something to you! How could you forget who you are? Forget us?!"

The stranger wearing her lover's face pulled his hand from hers.

Slowly he stood.

"Why do you talk like this? The darkness lied to me - are you allied with him?"

Chloe blinked. "The darkness? The..."

And then it all came back to her - the voice inside, the ring, being unable to speak or act, and the awful thing that had come out of her - surrounded by dark swirling shadows?

How had that happened? How did she have a child in the space of a day?! It was a fragmented mess inside her head - being home, but also at the hospital, delivering something too large, and being torn apart as Lucifer leaned over her with a kiss...

She shook her head against the madness and stared up at him. "I don't understand any of this, but I'm on your side, Lucif-"

His eyes flared in golden fire, his mouth twisted in anger, and the world shook within and around her as he spoke in the tongue she had no hope of understanding.

Time slid from her protectively.

She came to slowly, feeling the grass against her back, listening to voices raised in argument.

A hand rested against her forehead again, gently stroking.

"You do not use our speech around humans, brother. They are too fragile."

The voice sounded far away, as did everything else. Like her ears were stuffed with cotton.

"I know that now, Remiel. Thank you."

Chloe groaned at the name, and the terrible moments that flashed in her mind with it. She opened her eyes to find Lucifer above her again.

Pain lined his face as she met his gaze.

"I am sorry. I should not have done that. Stay here and rest."

"No," she whispered. Pushing his hand away, she turned and slowly rose to her feet, her eyes fixed on Remiel.

The angel would not look at her.

Breathing through the dizziness, Chloe shrugged off the hand not-Lucifer rested on her arm, and walked towards Remiel, her hands closing into fists.

"You killed him," she growled, closing the distance. "He died because of you, and now he doesn't remember who he is! YOU DID THAT!"

She lashed out as Remiel closed her eyes, but the angel merely shifted her head back from her swing.

"Do not hurt yourself, human."

Chloe swung at the angel again, and again, grabbing at the woman's tunic for leverage, but Remiel merely evaded every move.

"You took him from me..." Chloe sobbed, exhausted, sinking to her knees in the grass. "Was that the point? Did you hate him that much? Did you hate me?"

"Remiel, what is she talking about?" Samael asked, stepping beside her.

"I... I did not hate you, Chloe Jane Decker," Remiel said, her gaze sliding back from Samael, her brow furrowed in pain. "He took my closest sibling from me and... I am lesser. I am sorry. Samael, I am so sorry."

"What?" Samael looked between them both, his eyes widening. "Sister, you would lend credence to this?"

Remiel's voice came out a whisper. "I would, brother. But there is something you must hear."

She glanced at Chloe, and in her eyes Chloe saw terrible regret.

Then she turned to Samael.

"You are not the Lucifer she speaks of. Your memory is not suppressed or changed. The Lucifer she speaks of no longer exists."

Chloe's eyes bulged. "W-what?!"

"Lucifer _was_ known as Samael. He rebelled. He Fell. He ruled Hell for millennia then abandoned it for Earth. He became attached to this woman, and unmade Uriel when Uriel threatened her. This is why I caused his physical death."

Her gaze fell to the ground. "Father unmade that Lucifer. He then made you, Samael, to replace what had been lost."

Chloe sucked in a strangled breath and shook her head frantically. "No... Remiel, are you lying? Are you trying to hurt us? Please... please tell me you're lying."

Samael stood immobile.

Remiel shook her head.

"I am not lying. I am not trying to hurt you, but I know this wounds you regardless."

"Oh God, no... tell me... tell me please that you're lying. Tell me he's okay, you're just hurting us, and he's okay." She crumpled against her legs. "Oh please."

A hand rested against her back. It was slender and warm.

"I am sorry, blessed one. I am not lying. The 'us' you speak of no longer exists."

There was a sudden rush of wings, and the hand left her back just as quickly.

"Samael, wait!"

Another rush of wings followed.

And Chloe was left alone in the woods to cry.


	30. A Change of Scene

Amenadiel stood at the counter at the hospital florist and tried to choose from the four different types of yellow flowers presented to him.

"What's the difference?" he asked, feeling a little overwhelmed with options.

The lady gave him a flat stare. "It depends on the message you want to give - the roses are a powerful declaration of friendly comfort, the sunflowers symbolize joy, the dahlias say 'you are beautiful', the-"

"No," he said over her.

She frowned. "No, what?"

"No to the dahlias."

"Your friend isn't beautiful?"

He gave her a pained look. "No, I mean, yes, she's beautiful, but that's not something I'd say to her. That should come from someone else. Of course, he's dead, so he can't buy flowers anyway, but he'd probably appreciate the gesture on his behalf... maybe we'll just... yeah, just throw those in too."

The woman stared at him for a long moment, before turning to her table to put something together.

Someone screamed.

Amenadiel raised an eyebrow, glancing out the shop window. People were looking but nobody was doing anything.

He'd been in hospitals a few times, but wasn't sure - were random screams normal?

The florist continued working until someone else screamed - a man this time - and footsteps came thundering through the lobby.

"What the...?" she mumbled, looking over her shoulder, scissors raised.

Amenadiel turned to look.

Two people ran past the small shop, their eyes wild with panic. They were followed by three more - one whose lower body was splashed in red.

More screams, wild and high pitched, rose from the direction of the cafe.

Frowning, Amenadiel rushed from the shop, joining a few bystanders and a security guard who were running towards the sound.

With a gesture, he slowed time to a crawl and pushed past them all, through the hall doors.

And into a nightmare.

Bodies lay scattered over the large space, some in pieces, their faces wide with the shock of their final moments. Blood lay in thick puddles on the floor, splashed over the walls, and dripped from the chairs, the tables, the soda and snack machines.

"My God," he whispered. "What happened here?"

A young boy - maybe eight or nine - walked out from behind the counter, his naked torso and legs covered in blood. He was busy wiping his chest down with a towel that may have once been white.

The boy looked up and smiled, with eyes brightly burning.

"I did."

Amenadiel stepped back, the muscles of his neck growing rigid.

This child was a celestial... but of a power he had never felt before - cold energy radiated from the boy in waves.

He broke out in a sweat.

"Who are you?"

The boy stepped forward and extended a blood-smeared hand.

"I'm your nephew," he said with a smile. "Hello!"

Amenadiel frowned deeply. "What?"

The child resumed cleaning, wiping the towel down his arms and between his fingers. "I could be clean in an instant, but I like how this feels. It's nice to feel anything."

The boy looked up at him and smiled again. "Can you see the resemblance? I think I take after mom."

Amenadiel took another step back, his eyes widening.

He _did_ see it... Brown wavy hair, a rounded but long nose, pointed chin, but the eyes... the eyes were Lucifer's.

"Chloe's your mom?" he asked, not understanding this at all.

The boy nodded. "Yeah! I almost killed her coming out, but I think she's okay now. Father saved her."

"You're Lucifer's son?!"

How was this possible? He'd seen Chloe two days ago and there was no mention of a child!

And what did he mean by 'saved her'?

_You are very slow,_ the boy's voice continued in his head. _I was born today. Nine months would have been excruciating so I sped it up a little. I like this talent you have by the way, but I'd prefer a little more action._

The world sped up again. Moans and screams filled the air.

"STOP THIS!" Amenadiel barked, his heart hammering against his chest. Grunting, he forced time to slow again, and spread his wings out wide. "What are you doing here!"

"I'm experimenting," the child said amicably. "Trying to see how these things work." He said the last flicking a finger at a nearby corpse without a head. "So far I've found them to be very good at screaming, running, falling, and dying."

With a delighted squeal he ran to the other side of the counter and pulled a plastic container out of the fridge.

"They're also very good at making this! It's called chocolate cake!" He opened it, speared it with his fingers and pulled a chunk up to his mouth. "Would you like some, uncle?"

"You must STOP this!" Amenadiel cried, not knowing how to do just that. How was he supposed to stop a child? "You can't tear your way through these people!"

The young man frowned. "Yes, I can. Look."

Time sped up again, and one of the bystanders Amenadiel had passed entered the café and stopping dead, her hands rising to her mouth.

"Screaming," the boy said, as the woman let loose a terrified cry.

She turned then, her body geared to flee, one foot slipping in a puddle of blood.

"Running," he continued.

His gaze grew intent, and the woman grasped at her chest, her eyes growing wide. A gout of blood spewed from her mouth, and she fell to the ground, in front of another man who'd come running.

"Falling."

Amenadiel rushed towards the woman as she arched backwards with a choked cry, her arms flailing, farther than her body could handle.

"STOP!" he roared, and slowed time again just as the woman's back snapped.

"And dying," the child said, as time jumped forward and the woman slumped broken to the floor.

Teeth gritted in rage, Amenadiel turned and ran towards the boy, ready to sweep him up and take him from this place.

The boy clapped his hands. "A change of scene is a great idea!"

Almost upon the child, Amenadiel ran into something hard as the hospital cafe changed into a terribly familiar room. He'd slammed into his own coffee table, in his own home, breaking it as he tumbled forward to the boy's feet.

"This place is nice," the boy said, nodding as he looked around the open living room of Linda and Amenadiel's home. Ceiling fans swung lazily above, and the space exuded warmth and welcome.

"God, no," Amenadiel whispered, struggling to pull himself from the remains of the table.

"What was that?!" came Linda's voice from the bedroom. She emerged, holding a wriggling Charlie in her arms.

"Linda, no!" Amenadiel roared, jumping between the bloody child and his family. "Get back!"

Linda's eyes grew huge as she took in the boy in the middle of the room, and she swung Charlie back protectively.

"Cousin!" the boy shouted, and ran forward on little bloody feet towards them both.

Amenadiel tried to catch him and push him back, but was violently thrown across the room - he slammed into the wall and through, punching a hole in the drywall and dislodging bricks on the other side.

Everything grew distant for a moment until Linda's scream tore through the silence. Grasping for the powdered edge of the wall, he struggled to pull himself up as the cry of his child rose in the space.

"Stop! Please, whoever you are," he moaned, clawing his way to his feet. "Don't hurt my family!"

The boy stood in the room, bouncing Charlie in his arms with a wicked grin. His son was wailing. Their eyes met and Charlie reached for his father, but the boy swung him around again with a smile.

Linda stood behind them, her head and arms back, frozen in time. A streak of blood ran from her nose.

"I am the Third, Amenadiel," the child said, hugging Charlie close. "I knew your Father before the birth of this universe. He trapped me in a chunk of dark matter and let his son wear me as jewelry. I'm a little upset about that, which is why I'm breaking so many of his toys."

Amenadiel approached slowly, a hand raised in peace. "Please give me my son back."

The Third squeezed his face close to Charlie's as the toddler wailed. "Would you like to be broken, little baby?"

Charlie reared his head back.

And head-butted the Third in the face.

"NO!" little Charlie yelled, and poked his thumb into the child's eye.

The Third screamed and staggered back, dropping Charlie to the floor. The toddler landed on his bottom and promptly speed-crawled to the nearby couch.

Amenadiel flew forward, hoping to grab the Third and get him away from his family, but the boy twisted at the last moment, still holding his eye, his teeth bared in fury. Amenadiel was slammed into the kitchen, shattering the counter, the oven, the lights.

He rolled to the floor, looking up through the blood leaking into his eyes as the Third walked towards him.

And the Third screamed, as Charlie stabbed the boy in the foot.

With a Hell blade his favorite aunty had given him.

"BAD!" Charlie yelled, pointing a tiny finger at the bloodied child.

Wailing, the Third reached down and tugged the blade free, just as Amenadiel staggered to his feet and went for his boy.

"Your child is such a SHIT!" the Third roared, and snatched Charlie up by the leg, sweeping him from Amenadiel's grasp.

Amenadiel was slammed back again. He slid along the floor and through the dining room table.

Charlie screamed as the Third held him high. The dark child drew up the knife and turned it in his hand as blood dripped from the edge.

The world tore open in the middle of the room - a writhing wound in the universe leading to an expanse of absolutely _nothing_ at all.

Heart pounding, Amenadiel pulled himself from the splintered timbers of what used to be their table, and spreading this wings wide, he flew, focused only on the knife and his infant son.

The Third turned to him with a grin and threw Charlie at the tear.

"NO!" Amenadiel roared, twisting in mid-air. He raced to catch his child, snatching Charlie into his arms at the last moment, and rearing back from the wound's edge. The void drew at him, and his wings worked frantically to pull them both back.

Until something tore into his lower back, deep under his ribs. He arched with a gasp, his wings stretching wide, then cried out as the thing - the Hell blade, he knew that now - was pulled free.

Slumping forward, Amenadiel held his son close and tried to turn away from the voids mouth, but it took him. The room vanished, and he spun slowly with his child in the utter darkness as the opening to the universe of his father's making began to close.

The Third appeared as the portal narrowed further.

The child waved. "Bye!"

The last of the light was gone.

Amenadiel's last thought before passing out, as he tried to lock his arms about his wriggling boy, was of Linda.

* * *

_I'm just going to leave this here:_

_I don't write tragedy, not with major characters._

_Not sure when the next update will be. Sorry to leave everyone with this cliffhanger. %) As I said, things get dark in this story. _

_But there is light ahead. _

_Waaaaay ahead. %)_

_If you're enjoying this story, or if you think I'm a horrible person, please leave a comment! :) Thank you all for reading :)_

_PS: Aunty Maze is a great teacher. ;)_

* * *

_Btw, I've got to say something, and this is just for the folks. One person has been kind enough to spare the time to leave a review for quite a few chapters. I think you're the only reason I'm still posting here. I'm thrilled to know people are reading it. That's a great feeling. But the biggest joy outside of writing fics is hearing how people felt about what the characters are doing in the story. Because I write without a plan. Two thirds of what I write is a surprise to me. I don't get to talk to anyone about it, so I hang out for reviews to have my little moment of 'omg, I know!' XD_


	31. Some Bleed Here

_Hey folks, not sure if anyone will see this, but I'm getting hit by something pretty hard. I think it's just the flu (feels like it). Hoping to write, but it's kinda bad at the moment and the chapters I have done really need some cleanup. Please bookmark/alert the story if you'd like to get the update when it happens :) Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Samael stood in the meadow of his birth as the grasses and trees sang their crystalline song around him, and the Hosts' voices blended with the music of the sky.

He stared down at the red stone, his eyes dark.

A drop of dark blood, small and hard to see, stained the stone at one spot.

Where his heart might be, if he laid there again.

Her voice rose in his mind, beautifully soft.

_Did they heal you?_

Lifting his hand, he pressed the spot that she had briefly held with such warmth and love.

Right over his heart.

He frowned, his hand lowering, as voices sparred in his memory.

_You KILLED him!_

_You are not the Lucifer she speaks of_

_He... made you, Samael, to replace what had been lost_

_Tell me he's okay, you're just hurting us, and he's okay..._

_The 'us' you speak of no longer exists_

The woman's cries echoed within his mind again. Her utter despair swelling at losing someone she had loved so dearly.

It hurt.

The press of her lips came to him, and he lifted his hand to touch where they had been.

_What did they do to you?_

_Why don't you remember who you are?_

The frown deepened. He turned from the stone to look down the slight slope to the tree line. The spot tugged at him.

He did not know why.

A breeze stirred the grasses and crystalline leaves there, weaving music once more.

Someone had been running there... had they not?

_He... made you, Samael, to replace what had been lost_

The dark hand about his heart clenched tight. With eyes blazing, Samael turned back and struck the stone platform with a shout that jarred against the music of the sky. The stone cracked with the sound of lightning and folded inward, and the shock of the blow shattered every crystalline blade of grass and flower about him in a wave.

_What did they do to you?_

_How could you forget who you are? Forget us?!_

**Samael?**

Remiel's arrival stirred the trees into song.

He did not turn to look at her.

**Samael. My brother. Please hear me**

"I hear you fine, sister," he said, with no interest in celestial speech.

**I am sorry**

He finally turned to face his sister, his eyes dark again.

"For what?" he said sharply.

She frowned.

**For causing the death of the one before you, of course**

"Hmm," he said softly. "From what you described, my predecessor was unruly. Defiant. He fought against Heaven, correct?"

"Yes, brother. Why do you use this speech? It is too base for our kind."

"I desire to. This 'Lucifer' was of his own mind, was he not?"

She gave a forced breath. "That was the problem. He gave no thought to responsibility or duty. He questioned Father at every turn."

Samael turned from her, to stare down at the broken stone. "And you killed him for this reason."

"No. I caused his death because he killed our brother. My closest sibling. He killed Uriel over a human woman. He put the life of an evolved ape over that of a seraphim."

"An evolved ape," Samael repeated, his voice low.

**Yes, brother,** Remiel answered, switching to celestial, **surely you can see the wrong in that?**

At his silence, she moved to his side and grasped his arm. **You have been reborn, brother. Your sins have been washed away. Do not sully yourself with thoughts of them. We have a task set by our Father, now. We must focus on that. Come**

The Hosts' song washed over him, tugging at his being with voices raised in rapturous joy. He had felt their song at his birth and had wished for nothing more but to join their number and sing with them for eternity.

He did not feel that way now.

Fire rippled out over his body and over his sister's hand. Remiel snatched it away with a gasp.

**Samael, what are you doing?**

"I wish to have words with Father. Leave me."

Remiel moved to his side, her eyes wide with anger.

**I am not your vassal to command! I am the eldest here! Father gave you a command and you must obey! Come!**

Eyes alight with golden flame, Samael turned and stared her down.

Remiel looked away.

She stepped back, spreading her wings wide.

**I should have known,** she said, her anger darkening her speech. **You are of the same tainted stock. I will find the child and kill him myself**

She flew, and he stared where she had been as the fires flickered over his body.

At the edge of the meadow where someone had been running.

"You made a mess," came a young voice behind him.

Samael turned once more, his brows raising in surprise.

A young girl atop one half of the broken stone, her legs swinging, her hair in pigtails.

Her mouth held a sad smile.

Her dark eyes held the universe.

"Father?"

She nodded. "You wanted to speak to me?"

Frowning, he gestured to her with an arm still wreathed in flame.

"Why are you wearing this form?"

With a generous shrug, she smiled. "I'm not quite ready to let Trixie go." Pointing to him in return, she smirked. "Why are you on fire?"

He looked down at himself.

The flames slowly died away.

"You're angry," she stated.

Samael looked back at her. "I am, Father."

"At me?"

He nodded. "At you. At Remiel." He sighed. "At... the one before me."

"You're angry at me less than one human day after your making," the girl said, hopping off the stone. She stood before him, with the same sad smile. "I'm impressed."

"Why did you do this to me?"

She frowned. "Do what?"

He scowled at her. "You can read my thoughts, Father. Why do you prompt so?"

She crossed her arms. "Because it's polite."

He turned towards the edge of the meadow, where the feeling still tugged at him.

_running_

"I see there's some bleed here," she said softly. "I didn't expect that."

"Why did you make me a copy of someone else?" he asked. An ache came with the words, deep in his chest.

She matched his frown and reached for him.

"So many hard feelings for someone so new."

"Do NOT treat me like a child, Father!" he snapped, the fire returning to his eyes. "Why did you DO this?!"

Pulling her hand back, she lowered her gaze. "Because I'd lost someone important. I couldn't fix it. I couldn't fix him. I did the only thing I could do - reclaimed him and made you."

"Reclaimed?" Samael echoed, his voice sharp. "You mean you _destroyed_ him."

Her big brown eyes grew darker. "His body was lost to me, his soul was never meant-"

Samael could not hold his anger back. "Was it because he disobeyed you? Or because you could not control him?! Did you hate him so?!"

"NO!" she cried, her voice breaking with tears. "I loved him, as I love you! Why are you saying these things?!"

The flames enrobed him again as his heart leapt in rage. **You have given me the face and form of one despised by all, Father! It is his spawn that threatens this Earth - his spawn that calls _me_ Father! How DARE you!**

**YOU WILL STOP**, the child before him shouted. At her voice the ground shook, the sky grew dark and the song of the Host was silenced.

**I WILL NOT**, Samael roared back, rising before her aflame. His wings beat the air into a storm of fire, as his heart thundered in his chest.

What was he doing?! Where would this lead? To his own destruction? Fear caused his heart to thunder, but his rage made it impossible to stop.

The fires swirled about the girl and wilted the grasses at her feet, but nothing touched her. She looked up at him in a rage darker than his own.

Then her features slowly softened.

The skies lightened overhead.

Her gaze fell. "I am sorry."

The words extinguished his flames in an instant.

"I am so terribly sorry," she said again.

He landed softly before her, his anger numbed.

"I am not going to repeat the mistakes of my past," she murmured, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry for the pain you're feeling. I'm sorry for unmaking the one before you, though I felt there was no other way. I'm sorry I made him the warden of my enemy. This is all my fault."

She gazed about the meadow, and everything was restored. The grasses chimed with a soft breeze.

"I can't meet him, Samael," she said softly, her gaze still held by the meadow. "I can't go to Earth to stop him. If we were to touch, everything I've built would be destroyed. I can't even interfere - he'll trace it back to this place."

"He is killing many," Samael said bluntly, not ready to let the wound go.

She nodded. "Yes. He seeks to hurt me in that way and make me reveal myself. Thank you for healing those you could. The rest are safe here... for now. Thankfully he doesn't know how to get here, and Azrael is being very careful not to lead him. I don't know how long that will last."

Samael sighed, the fight gone from him. "I do not know where he is now, Father. I do not know how to stop him. I saved the mother, as you asked... and she..." Something stirred in his chest, and he reached for the spot she had held. "She thought I was he... and when she found out I was not... she..."

The girl's face crumpled. "Yes. I'm sorry for that too. I never meant for this to happen."

The anger leached away from him, leaving him more lost than he had been before.

"Tell me what to do, Father."

The girl stared at him with sad brown eyes. "Be the lightbringer, Samael. You have a power and will beyond any of my creations - wield both to defeat him." She closed her eyes tightly. "He has done a terrible thing just now, but I have mitigated it as best I could - go to him. Stop him. I will tell you where."

When she opened her eyes again, they were dark with rage.

"Show him terror, Samael."

* * *

_Hello! I'm hoping to get a lot of writing done this weekend so I can keep up with regular-ish posting. :) Nothing worse than big gaps when you're trying to read a story. You should still expect a couple of days between posts though as I finish this and clean it up._

_Thanks everyone, for the reviews and comments on the last chapter. :) Awesome to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading, and I hope you all stay safe and well._


	32. Burnt In Anyway

Chloe focused on placing one foot in front of the other, her thoughts jumping from Lucifer to Trixie to Dan and finally to the blood-soaked bottom of her gown and the awful thing she had seen in the corner of her hospital room.

_My... son?_

She couldn't stay on any thought for too long because everything began to collapse inside when she did, so she took her measured steps, allowed each thought to rise and fall away, and kept moving.

She was in a park. One with thick trees and bushes and no clear line of sight to anything that wasn't another tree or bush. She had absolutely no idea _what_ park, though it had to be one of the bigger ones, for the same reason.

At least she _could_ tell she was still in LA - the air had that hot flatness to it, even under the trees.

So a large park, in LA, perhaps close to where the hospital was?

The problem was, she wasn't sure what hospital it was. The room hadn't exactly had a giant sign that said 'Welcome to This Specific Hospital, Don't Forget Because You Might End Up Being Dumped Somewhere By An Angel Who Looks Like Your Dead Lover But Isn't'.

Chloe closed her eyes tightly, took a deep breath, then looked down at her feet as she took another step.

The nurse had had a badge though, hadn't she? Her name was Samantha... she'd seen that badge. What had it said?

Pausing, she closed her eyes again. Taking a slow, even breath, she brought up the memory.

Having a photographic memory was fantastic for police work, but awkward at times when images she wished weren't in there got burnt in anyway.

Like Lucifer's dead face, staring up at nothing.

With a pained noise, Chloe shoved the image down quickly, then forced the other image back up.

Okay, the badge had a logo on the top left, with the name of the hospital underneath.

_Cedars-Sinai Medical Center._

She opened her eyes again.

"Great!" she said, her rough voice breaking the green quiet around her. "Now I know where I'm not!"

God, this was so frustrating and awful and she didn't understand any of it!

"HELLO?!" she yelled at the trees, desperately needing someone to answer. "Anybody around?!"

Nobody answered, but she felt the faintest nudge in a certain direction. A small inner push that had no apparent source.

She could work with that.

She was going to get out of this goddamn park, she was going to get back to the hospital.

And she was going to grab Trixie and just run.

It wouldn't even matter where. She'd just pack everything in a car and drive.

Dan would be angry. He'd probably run after her.

That was fine too.

Tears welled unwanted, blurring the mass of green about her.

She wiped them away almost angrily, looked down at her feet again and kept walking.

But the thoughts would not leave her be.

Trixie was at the hospital wasn't she?

She had to be, right? With Dan?

But why had Dan said that he didn't know her?!

Chloe shook her head sharply. She didn't like where that chain of thought led - to something speaking through her, something playing with the ring...

She looked down at her hand.

The ring was still there. The dark stone sat in its silver seat against the skin of her thumb, with no reflection of form or texture to show its shape, only its bounds contained within the metal. If she raised it, she could see its flattened shape just above the silver, but otherwise it just looked like a black spot.

A void.

She'd said that, hadn't she? When she'd been talking to the nurse?

No.

The other thing said it.

The child.

The bloodied figure flashed in her mind.

_Hi, mom._

Chloe clamped her hand over her mouth with an anguished noise, squeezing her eyes shut so tight they hurt.

_No! Not thinking of that now!_

Clearing her throat violently, she marched again, her mind set on the ground ahead of her bare feet, and only on that, until the soft swell of voices reached her from the top of the small slope she was climbing.

And finally she emerged at the edge of a wide meadow, dotted with people in small groups and large; chatting, laughing, reading books, playing Frisbee with their dogs. Beyond them, a windscreen flashed in the sun as a car negotiated the far parking lot.

A small strangled sound brought her attention back again.

A family of four sat on a blanket on the edge of the meadow a few yards away.

The two women stared at her, frozen, their jaws open, their wide eyes rising from her blood-soaked gown.

There was a period of awkward silence.

Finally, the little boy spoke, pointing at her with the bright plastic toy in his hand.

"Zombie, momma?"

Chloe snorted with an awful sounding laugh.

And she kept laughing.

And she wasn't sure she was ever going to stop.

* * *

_Hi everyone. :) I hope you're all staying as safe and as sane as can be in the midst of this pandemic. Sorry for the big gap in posting. I was really sick for a week (flu, apparently, they didn't do a test for the other thing), and it took another week to get down from some hefty anxiety to be able to get back into the swing of things. Going to be writing some more tonight. _

_The timing of events in some of the chapters to come are actually concurrent to some events that have already happened. Hopefully it won't get too confusing ;) I think the sentence I just wrote is possibly more confusing than the timing jumps themselves, so yay me! %) They can't be any more confusing than The Witcher's jumps, so there's that._

_Take care of yourselves, hope to post another chapter soon! __If anyone is bored and wants to just talk Lucifer or anything, feel free to shoot me a message._


	33. Somewhat Feral

_UPDATE: Hey! Been a little busy, but planning on having a new chapter up tomorrow. :)_

_Hi! I posted two chapters tonight, to make up for the big gap. __lease make sure you read the chapter before this one (Chapter 32: Burnt In Anyway) if you haven't already._

_Btw, the events of this chapter happen concurrently with some older chapters. Time works a little differently where we're headed now ;)_

_If you're enjoying the story, I hope you'll let me know with a comment or review. :) Thanks for reading! _

* * *

Hell was burning.

As per usual.

And as per usual, Michael was bored.

But he'd tried to do the right thing, as his older brother had suggested - acting as a good king of Hell should.

He'd taken a personal interest in the punishment of every single soul that landed in his realm, and amplified their punishment, until the air was filled with the screams of his charges, reaching even to the upmost spire of his throne.

He hoped that was a good start.

Another improvement had been battles in a newly-constructed arena, where semi-willing Lilim and some of the more robust souls were dragged into a fray. He enjoyed these battles immensely, often swinging down from his lofty chair to join in during the more pregnant pauses in action. Astounding all with his prowess at dispatching every single participant within at speed.

And a smile.

He couldn't truly kill the souls of course, they were already dead, but the extra suffering simply reinforced that they were here to be punished.

And that seemed to be a good thing.

A battle was playing out now, as he stared out over his realm, watching the demons below torturing and executing a few of the more fascinating residents. The acts were repeated ad nauseum, and he was starting to suspect the demons were crafting a kind of music out of the cries and moans of their charges.

He tapped his slender fingers against the newly rebuilt armor over his thigh and nodded to himself, his impeccable blonde hair bobbing briefly.

There was a definite tempo of sorts, building. Some rudimentary attempts at a key. He tried singing along, his perfect lips shaping the crystalline tones he sang of no meaning, but the occasional wail or screech in an inappropriate flat or sharp spoiled the effect.

With a sigh, he sank back against the throne and stared at the portal above.

It had been fascinating, briefly, to see Samael again. To see him so new, so filled with the vigor of righteousness. Michael had quickly realized his brother did not know him, which stalled his intended attack, leaving him somewhat speechless as he was shown a wayward Lilim and asked where to place her.

In hindsight, it would have been a great opportunity to shed this seat - to convince his newly naïve brother that Hell was worth his ruling.

But again, he'd been too stunned to do much but point to the arena.

Where the roars of the crowd were growing even stronger.

What was going on down there?

Steepling his fingers against his lips he glanced down, expecting to see the Lilim female Samael had brought lying in some state of dismemberment or death.

He raised an eyebrow the slightest amount.

The female still lived, surrounded by a large number of motionless, limbless, headless, and most certainly lifeless, assailants.

The eyebrow rose further.

Michael turned his full attention to her, leaning on the arm of the carved throne, his chin propped on his hands, to watch as a horde of souls were released from the gates at the far end of the arena.

The horde rushed her, roaring in a desperate kind of bloodlust. They'd been told that defeating their enemy would win them freedom from Hell. A complete lie, but a necessary one. Most of the souls just cried, cowered, and begged for their illusionary lives without that powerful motivation.

The woman, half her face carrying old scars, her body marred by far fewer wounds than seemed logical, snatched a curved blade from a nearby corpse, matching it with the sword she'd wielded so far, and held both forward in pointed welcome.

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of Michael's beautiful mouth.

And he watched, in growing interest, as the Lilim female decimated every single soul that came near.

Without truly intending to, without negotiating the nature of his intention at all, Michael left the throne, his white wings catching the ever-present thermals as he lowered toward the arena.

He took his time. He watched another wave swarm the woman, this time Lilim much more heavily armored and armed.

She took two wounds for their efforts - one to her arm, one to her thigh. Neither deep.

And she laughed with a scissoring sweep of her blades as she decapitated the last of her attackers.

She was still laughing, the sound rising above the sudden silence of the crowd, when he descended behind her, stepping softly to the blood-soaked ground with plated boots.

Silently he stood, his great wings arched majestically, awaiting the moment of her turning and recognition. The fear and obeisance that would surely follow.

The woman rolled her shoulders with a satisfied sigh, stretching her head from side to side.

"Mmmm," she murmured, a deeply content sound, before she finally turned to face him.

Then crossing her arms, blades still in hand, she smirked, the skin pulling oddly from the scarred side of her face.

"What," she said flatly.

In English.

Michael stared at her in disbelief. His wings drooped somewhat, an embarrassing tell he would remember later.

**Your King stands before you, and that is all you say?!** he finally sputtered. '**WHAT?!'**

The power of his voice stirred the ash and sand of the arena floor, washing over the demon in a cloud.

It settled, revealing a slightly dustier demon, somehow even less impressed than she had been before.

"You're not my King, asshole," she snapped. "_My_ King dumped me here after acting like he didn't know me." The woman pointed her blade at his face. "What'd you do to Lucifer?!"

Michael stiffened. His eyes grew alarmingly wide. His hands clenched into fists.

When he spoke his voice was as low and dangerous as one could speak in the celestial tongue.

**Address me properly, in the language of your kind, or I will kill you where you stand**

"Tell me what you did to Lucifer," she shouted back in English, her head cocked sharply to the side, punctuating the words with her blade, "or I'll kill _you_ where _you_ stand!"

Michael stared at her.

He'd never met a single demon who did not cower before him or comply without question.

Not a one.

He found himself in a rather odd state.

Complete speechlessness.

The woman waited for him to act, adopting a stance of readiness.

Michael simply studied her in fascination.

After a while, whispers rose from the crowd around them.

She straightened slowly.

"Speak or fight," she snapped, flicking one of her knives at his chest in a careless gesture. The blade skittered off the gleaming metal of his armor, thudding into the ground harmlessly. "You're boring me."

Michael found a strange smile on his face.

This was something new.

How delightful.

**Why not both?** he said, adopting his own stance, his eyes bright with expectation.

When the cloud of ash settled again, she rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

And in a movement lost within the space of a breath, the woman struck, delivering a kick to his head that would have killed an ordinary man.

Michael blocked it, and held her leg for a moment, noting the steel-toed boots.

Human in design.

Uncomfortably so.

**I did nothing to Lucifer** he said, looking back at her with a smirk.

The demon twisted, freeing herself, and swung in with another kick - one that caught him in the side, unbalancing him momentarily.

"You lie," she growled, pointing at him again. "You've done something to him. Or someone in his family has. He didn't KNOW me! Why didn't he know me?!"

The energy of her rage carried over into three deadly strikes to his head - he blocked them all, noting their impressive strength and accuracy. Smiling, he returned a punch, seeking to crush her chest.

She merely flexed backwards, out of his reach, then swung back with a strike to his throat.

Which he blocked.

His smile grew.

**Excellent. Who taught you to fight?**

She glared at him, twisting to free her hand before stepping back for better footing.

"I did," she spat. "Who taught you?"

His grin grew somewhat feral.

**I did**

She gave him the slightest arch of an eyebrow before launching into an attack of such speed and ferocity he began to sweat twisting and parrying her blows, landing frustratingly few hits of his own.

**You have fought three of my brothers,** he said appreciatively, attempting to knock her off her feet. **I see their styles in your attacks**

"I don't care," she snapped, jumping free of his attempt and lashing out with a high kick.

**Uriel... before he was destroyed,** he continued, blocking the kick but grunting as she landed a solid blow to his side again. **Amenadiel too, before he fell. You were... quite intimate with him, were you not?**

"Shut up," she growled, blocking another of his attacks and following through with a strike to his jaw.

Dodging it, he moved to change the tide of the battle with a different kind of weapon.

**And Samael, before he was remade**

The opening came, as he knew it would, when the demon's eyes widened in shock.

"What?!"

And he landed the first satisfying punch of the fight, sending her stumbling back over the bodies of the defeated.

He advanced, smiling warmly, as she finally got to her feet.

"What do you mean _remade?!_"

Michael blocked her half-hearted attempt at a blow to his face, and kicked her in the chest, sending her flying and breaking quite a few ribs.

Finally, he was getting somewhere!

The demon coughed blood as she stood to her feet - a promising sign - and looked so incredibly lost he felt the generous urge to explain his meaning as he closed the distance between them.

"The Samael who returned you is new," he said in Lilim, just to drive the point home. "I believe Father remade him. This Samael carries no taint, no trace of the old Samael at all."

"No," the demon whispered, her eyes wounded. "That's not true."

"It is. Much like the old Samael, I do not lie. I cannot speak for the new Samael though," he grinned, knowing the effect it would likely have, "perhaps he does?"

He was not disappointed.

With a raw roar of rage and something close to despair, the woman lashed out at him, with strikes to his throat, face, and vicious kicks to his chin and chest. The furor of the melee made his heart swell in joy, and he joined her again in a battle that shook the walls of the arena around them.

He marveled at her throughout, and swiftly added to her wounds, breaking her wrist and shattering her cheekbone.

But she refused to fall.

And at some wild point, when they'd wielded every form of weapon strewn upon the field and fallen back to the raw purity of unarmed combat, after he'd shed his dented, cleaved and shattered armor and taken more blows than he could count, he realized something that made no sense at all.

He was _losing._

The end came very swiftly after the revelation, for it was his turn to be lost, dulling his strikes and neutering his defenses. As the blows rained down upon his head and torso, he stared up at this demon with eyes wide with wonder, and saw what else she held in eyes flared in desperate rage.

Grief.

The woman had been crying throughout their entire fight.

It pulled from him words he had never spoken before, as she looked ready to rip open his throat with a clawed hand.

**I am sorry**

He said this between labored breaths, from lips split and bleeding. The effect was immediate. The demon froze, long enough for the hand raised for his throat to fall.

And with another desperate roar, the Lilim swung her head forward, cracking the full weight of her skull against his own.


	34. This Lowly Soulless Demon

Michael's world went far, far away...

...and took quite a while to come back.

The archangel drifted in confusion in this new, dark space, as he slowly rose to wakefulness again.

Where had the world gone?

How had this happened?

Never, in his many years of existence, had he once been taken to such a place.

Not once!

The demon - she'd stolen the world from him!

_How?!_

Broken moments of conversation reached him in the dark.

"...king... down! Kill him!"

The woman's voice was easy to distinguish in the multitude of cries that followed, laden as it was with exhaustion and pain.

"...off, or... all of you!"

With an embarrassing groan he did not intend to make, Michael surfaced fully, turning his head and finally opening his eyes.

And he found the blades of multiple crude weapons pointed at his throat.

_Oh._

His body screamed at him of the mess of aches and terrible wounds he had suffered. Not the least vocal were his wings and limbs, which a crowd of Lilim were currently standing on.

No matter. Once he had freed himself - somehow - the wounds would close soon enough.

But the woman's would not. She stood spitting blood, her broken wrist cradled against her broken ribs, her other hand pointing a sword towards the demon at his head.

"Touch him and die," she growled, her broken cheekbone shifting oddly with her jaw's movement.

At that moment, Michael felt a respect for her greater than any other.

For this lowly, soulless demon, a peerless warrior who had somehow bested him while gravely wounded and grieving, was defending his kingly right before a crowd of her kin.

His respect was quite an honor, really, since he'd had such a very, very long life.

If she ever survived this, he would be sure to point that out.

"But he's down," the demon at his head cried, misshapen jaws flapping in excitement. "We kill him now, we're king! It's our realm! We claim it for the Lilim!"

"You're a fool, Kulzar," the woman growled. "Lilim can't take the throne. Leave him be, or die."

The beast's black lips pulled back from broken, yellow teeth. "No! We do this now!" He stabbed a clawed finger towards her. "And now, we kill you too!"

Shouts rose in support. A blade began to pierce the soft skin of Michael's throat as he wrestled to free himself.

Rather abruptly and viciously, a sword split Kulzar's sternum, driving deep. A dagger just as swiftly followed, lodging in the throat of another on Michael's wing.

The crowd jerked back with a collective gasp.

Not waiting for an invitation, Michael was up in an explosion of white, felling two nearby Lilim with penetrating strikes to their chests, then another with a blade his foolish attacker had wielded against him.

A song of battle rose inside his heart once more - grinning, he whirled and struck out at the masses swarming them both, a part of him wishing the tide would never end, even though his body shouted its pain.

This!

_This_ is what he'd been promised at his appointment!

And it was _glorious._ The tide was immense, determined, and armed with everything at hand, including the bodies of the fallen... which was quite novel, really, and something he greatly appreciated.

The woman was there too, an admirable storm of destruction, fighting with blades and a flurry of deadly punches and kicks.

Until she stumbled, the exhaustion and the wounds she'd taken at his hands costing her balance.

And one demon, seeing his chance, attacked, thrusting a blade at her back.

Michael could not reach her in time - the sword was driven through her, the point jutting from beneath her collarbone with a gout of dark blood.

With a roar of rage, he cleaved his way towards her.

**A coward's attack! Worm, you will suffer!**

The woman spun with a cry, cutting the demon's head from his shoulders...

...just as another Lilim slid a barbed knife deep into her side and wrenched it free.

With a choked gasp, she fell.

Before her body touched the dirt, Michael caught her.

With powerful wingbeats he carried her up, out of the melee, as the hordes below them roared and fired what weapons they could. Most missed. One arrow pierced his side - he plucked it free with a scowl, and flew until the throne swung into view.

He hovered before it, unsure.

What was he to do now? No place existed in Hell to dress her wounds. Heaven would not take a demon, nor could he leave this post to take her to the backward hospitals of Earth?

"Can't heal... can you."

The woman stared up at him, her eyes narrowed and bloodshot.

A perceptive statement of truth.

Frowning down at the woman's battered face, Michael chose to finally use the language she preferred.

"I once could," he said softly in English, scanning the worst of her wounds. "But my talents lie in the realm of war now. I find I am truly much better at destruction, than I ever was at repair."

His gaze darkened. Blood seeped steadily around the blade jutting from her chest. Her hand, clasped around the wound in her side, did little to stem the flow of dark blood.

The wounds were mortal.

The demon laughed, the sound wet.

"You suck."

He smiled at her.

"Laughing in the face of your own extinction. You continue to impress me, demon."

An unwelcome feeling rose inside him then, something he struggled to label and negotiate.

Sadness.

This had all been a very enjoyable distraction, but like everything else he'd ever experienced, it had proven just as ephemeral.

He would miss her.

Grimacing, the woman grunted, squirming in his arms. "Get... it out."

He finally realized what she was asking, and frowned down at her chest before catching her gaze.

"It will hasten your death."

She glared at him, one eye rolling in a rim of exposed bone. "Good. Tired of... your face."

Michael laughed.

Then nodding, he held her close and grasped the sword at her back.

"You are the greatest warrior I have ever fought," he whispered against her unmarred cheek. "I must have your name."

The woman shifted with an irritated grunt, closing her hand over his, and with an ugly wrench, she tore the sword from her own body.

And held his gaze defiantly until the very moment of death.

The sword slipped from her bloody fingers.

Michael drew her closer as her body grew still.

He frowned.

A symbolic act was needed to mark this moment.

If she would not give him her name, then he would give her a title fitting of her valor.

Gently, he lowered her onto the throne, resting her head back against the dark stone and draping her arms over the rests of the great chair.

**Daughter of Lilith,** he intoned solemnly, **you defeated me in a battle I made far from fair. I, Michael, the most mighty and revered of the Celestial Host, recognize you as my successor. I recognize you as the true ruler of this realm**

And he bowed his head in respect.

The ground far beneath his feet _shuddered._

The base of the spire cracked with a sound that split the air like lightning.

**What is this?**

Eyes widening, he tracked the destruction as it swiftly scaled the spire towards him.

The throne finally shattered - too slow, he reached out to pull the woman's body back, but it was already falling.

**WHAT IS HAPPENING?!** he roared, pulling his wings in to drop with the remains of the throne and the woman's battered body.

A body that did not look quite so battered anymore?

Her descent slowed impossibly as they neared the ground, and by some mechanism he did not understand, the throne reformed beneath them both, the raw material of the spire melting and reforming into a grand circular space. A walkway rose from the ground within its center, flanked with fluidly shaped arches leading up to a massive new throne.

Gone were the angular, hexagonal extrusions - the form of the throne was sweeping, organic, yet jaggedly branched like the antlers of ancient Earth beasts, the tines curling back to face those who would stand before it, wickedly sharp.

Both beautiful and deadly.

Michael gazed about himself in wonder - the entirety of Hell was changing, reflecting the same deadly, yet graceful sweeping arches and sharpened branching tines.

His mouth parted softly with a sudden revelation.

Graceful and deadly.

Just as _she_ had been.

This... was _her_ Hell.

**Father above...**

For there she sat upon the throne, exactly as he had placed her before. He had not seen the last of her descent, and understood even less of her transformation than that of Hell itself.

Every wound on her body had vanished. Her face was whole, no longer marred by some ancient wound, and free of the bruises and cuts of their battle. Her chest and side no longer bled, her wrist and ribs were unbroken.

With a sudden, shuddering gasp, the woman arched in the seat, her eyes snapping open wide.

And screamed.

* * *

_Hello! Sorry about the wait. Busy week (I work remotely), and I wanted to get a little ahead... I didn't manage to get too far, but there's a break coming up for me next week and I'm hoping to finish the entire story during that time. Next update will likely not be for a few days, at least, as I've got a very busy week again._

_To the story however. I just want to point out one thing - I wrote this and the next chapter (which was originally all one chapter!) BEFORE I ever saw the photo of Mazikeen in that awesome getup from Season 5 that suggests something very interesting that I won't state definitively here. :D Suffice to say, I'm very excited :D If you have not seen the photo, or heard the rumors. Nevermind. ;)_

_Anyhoo - if you are enjoying the story, let me know with a comment or a review! I love hearing from folks and seeing what you thought. Here's one of mine - I think, despite his work above, that Michael is still a dick. %) Something tells me that will never, ever truly change._

_I hope you're all staying safe and well. There's a light at the end of this road, I know it. All will, eventually, be well._


	35. Murmurs of the Reverent

_Hi, everyone! Sorry about yet another long gap, BUT huge week for me. I'm basically tech support for a bunch of folks who've never gone remote before, so lots and lots and lots of work getting them all settled. Also a big remote b'day party for my hubby one night, a writer's group get together on another night. Anyhoo. I have almost the next week dedicated to writing. I'm hoping I'll be able to wrap up the story and post more frequently. :) _

_As always, thanks for reading. Thanks for the comments and reviews you've left. I always welcome more ;) Take care of yourselves!_

_Btw, if you are a healthcare worker of any kind, or anyone still working in an essential capacity - thank you. Stay well._

* * *

Mazikeen woke to a cacophony.

The screams of a multitude, the mutterings and whimperings of a overflowing realm. The incessant whispers of millions. A constant torrent of plaintive cries, every word as clear as crystal and laden with imagery of acts both banal and unspeakable, saturated in lust, rage, in wicked delight and crushing guilt.

Mazikeen screamed, clamping her hands over her ears, curling into herself in an attempt to escape the roaring in her head.

But it persisted, unabated.

She screamed again, her eyes opening wide to take in the space about her, to understand what was happening - could she kill them all to silence them?

But what she saw made no sense!

Smooth swirls of stone arched before her - overhead, around her, a grand chamber of some sort opened to the familiar ash-laden sky of Hell, obscured by branching weaved points of the same stone.

And Michael was standing there, his face wide with shock.

Where in Hell was this?!

How was she alive?!

"W-what," she started, before the cacophony rose again, drowning her in scenes and cries of desperation, depravity, and despair.

"STOP!" she roared, but knowing it would not, for there hadn't been any crowd about her to cause this!

It was inside of her, inescapable and absolute, and she knew, as it rose in volume and number again, that she would go insane with it - for where did she start and end in this mess? The thoughts, imagery and screams were slipping between her own - a serial killer stalking his prey, a woman poisoning her child, a gun fired in rage at a friend - weren't they her acts? Why were they in her head if they weren't? Why and when had she done these things?!

"NO!" she roared, rejecting it all, shuddering on the seat of stone as the realities pressed even closer in.

Movement came with a flash of white to her right - a threat?!

_Michael!_

Mazikeen's eyes snapped to him and branching spears of stone slammed down about the angel like a cage.

Grasping at the weaved stone of his prison, he stared at her wide eyed, his mouth pulling back in a strange grin.

**How is this possible?!** he called. **The soulless Lilim cannot claim the throne! How are you doing this?**

"SHUT UP!" she screamed at him. As if in answer, as if to block the angel from view, the stone weaved more tightly about him. "Everything is in my head! IT WON'T STOP!"

And she screamed again, tearing her nails down the skin of her scalp, overwhelmed by the multitude once more.

**Let me out and I will help!**

The voice was an agony on top of the cacophony - with a wail she folded in on herself, her arms wrapped around her entire head, her nails now cutting deep into the skin of her palms.

"Stop YELLING!" she roared, watching rapid fire scenes of war, murder, assault, torture - and while she was no stranger to anything she was seeing - some small part of her taking notes on the torture particularly - everything was saturated in the emotions of perpetrator and victim, ramped to the extreme.

She did not know how to cope.

Mazikeen had dabbled in emotions, she'd weathered unfamiliar highs and lows, and they'd been devastating to someone so new to them.

But this was everything. EVERYTHING ever felt and it was taking her over and she couldn't-

"You are Hell's ruler now, Lilim! A conduit!" Michael said, his voice reaching her somehow, shifted to her race's speech. "You hear the prayers of the damned! You are the warden of every soul here - their sins, their punishments are opening to you!"

She roared at him, her eyes wide with rage.

The stone weaved tighter about the angel. She smelled his fear upon the air - a welcome distraction that lasted only a second.

"STOP THEM! MAKE THEM SHUT UP!" she screeched, ramming her head back against her stone seat.

But it finally reached her, what the angel was saying.

Hell's ruler?

"WHAT?!"

Was this the throne?! Why did it look like this?

A man ran over another man with a car in her head, laughing, as a child threw a kitten into a pen of wild dogs - she sucked in a breath and started screaming again.

"Release me and I will help you," Michael's voice came faintly from the dense stone cage.

"I don't know HOW!" she snarled, gritting her teeth until they felt they would crack.

"Will it, demon. The realm is yours - it responds to you. Will it!"

"Lilim can't rule Hell!" she yelled back, grasping the only thing that made sense in all of this. "You're doing this to me!"

The stone cage shook with a sound like thunder. Small cracks appeared with another impact, and finally it exploded as Michael struck it a final time, showering the chamber with branches of stone that simply melted back into the floor.

"I am NOT doing this to you!" he yelled, storming at her. "YOU are doi-"

Something shot forward - a sweeping arch moving as if liquid - and Michael was slammed sideways onto a wall where branches weaved swiftly over him, locking him in place.

Shuddering, assailed by thoughts and feelings and scenes she did not understand and did not want, Mazikeen began to laugh.

She was sliding under the lip of sanity - she could _feel_ it.

"I don't LIKE YOU," she growled at him, and watched with satisfaction as the tines weaved closer, their points turning inward, pressing against his skin.

**CLEARLY** he grunted, struggling to break off what he could as they pressed closer still.

And blood began to flow.

**Could you perhaps not like me a little less?** he asked, his blue eyes widening as the lattice grew denser.

Mazikeen blinked.

It was true.

Everything he'd said was true.

Hell was responding to what she wished.

"But why won't it shut up?!" she cried, ramming her fists into her eye sockets.

Would she still see what they'd done if she didn't have eyes? What if she tore off her ears?

"Yelling at the air will certainly help," Michael snapped from his prison. "Listen to me - it is like pain - you must put it somewhere, behind a wall, in a container in your mind. Lock it away, feel it when you are ready." He sighed, resting his head against the stone. "I have heard the prayers of the faithful my entire existence; they've only increased with the passage of time. I deal with it by doing this. If you do not, you will go mad."

Mazikeen growled, grasping the arms of the throne in shaking hands, the knuckles white.

"I don't contain pain!" she spat, offended by the very concept. "I don't hide from it - that is something the _weak_ do!"

Michael glared at her through his stone prison. "I am NOT weak!"

"You are," she purred, piercing his skin further. Was it her imagination, or could she taste his blood? Was the stone drinking it? Someone in this Hell had drunk another's blood and died from the diseases it carried.

That was funny. She laughed, and the sounds mingled beautifully with the screams tearing through her mind.

The angel was shouting at her, the sound almost lost in the cries of the suffering.

"Demon! You fight beyond what most could endure - what do you do with the pain, then, how do you keep fighting?!"

Sucking in a breath, Mazikeen pressed back against the throne.

She was losing herself to madness! She was stronger than this!

And she answered the angel's question, anchoring herself with each word.

"I _embrace_ pain!" she screamed, shuddering, her gaze fixed on the swirling portal far above. "I devour it and it feeds who I am!"

Michael's answer was desperate, "Then embrace Hell, demon! Devour the screams and the prayers of the damned! Do that insane thing, and show me how strong you truly are!"

Mazikeen roared at him, feeling a rage and fear unlike any she'd ever felt.

But she did it.

She opened her mind further to the soul stream of Hell's throne - she welcomed it all, took every nuance of evil and guilt and suffering into herself, accepted every scene of their sins and every prayer of those imploring the ruler of Hell for deliverance, for power, for lust, for wealth. She screamed through it all, at them all, for them all, she wept and laughed and came. She circled through a darkness that turned her new soul to tar, then sloughed it from herself, releasing it to fuel the growth of the land about her. She slid into insanity, but used it to twist the land into more creative shapes, before clawing her way back to herself again. She cried, mourning the lives damaged, the lives lost, for every single victim of her charges, and she cried for the damned themselves...

...for she'd delved deep and uncovered the wounds that had shaped them so, and she'd seen in herself the same wounds.

And that's what saved her in the end.

An unexpected _love._

She brought everything they had into herself, their darkest hate and pain and the horror of their actions, she devoured it all and gave them her love.

They were her wayward, suffering children now, every single one.

And she loved them all.

The screaming that had surrounded her, filled her, and come from her, grew soft - lowering to the murmurs of the reverent in church.

She relaxed against her throne, feeling its warm, welcoming embrace.

Her breaths grew gentle and deep.

**God in Heaven**

Michael's voice simmered against her senses. Mingling with the undercurrent of the faithful damned.

**You have done it...**

Mazikeen opened her eyes slowly. The tears she'd shed still clung to her lashes. To her skin. She drew a finger over them and licked the salt from her fingertips.

She smiled.

She released the angel, letting him fall to his knees before her.

Crossing her slender legs, she fixed him with a gaze she knew held the embers of a great flame.

"You asked my name before," she purred. "I think I'm finally in the mood to share it."

And she basked in the cries of her children as she spoke.

"You may call me Mazikeen, Queen of Hell."


	36. The Right Leverage

_TRIGGER WARNING - the events in this chapter will be confronting for some._

_Been writing happily along. Quite a few chapters ahead and hopefully close to finishing. Never know with the way I write. Odd things keep happening :D_

_Please note - this chapter happens immediately after the Amenadiel chapter a while back. Quite a few of the recent chapters have happened close to concurrently._

_Thank you for reading, hope you're enjoying it. Leave a comment if you can, they make my day. :)_

* * *

The wound in the world, in the middle of Linda and Amenadiel's wrecked living room, closed.

The Third stood watching it, tapping his foot impatiently, his eyes burning, his small hand still clenching the blade dripping with Amenadiel's blood.

He gave a satisfied smile when it was done.

Surely the Second would pay attention to _that?_

"It's going to happen!" he yelled at the wrecked room. "I'm going to find you! Might as well get it over with!"

Then he let out a cry and dropped to his wounded foot.

"Ow ow ow!" he yelled, holding the area, allowing himself to feel the full spectrum of signals his recently grown body was sending his brain.

A quick restructuring healed the wound the small brat had made. The signals stopped. The pain vanished.

Efficient. Handy.

"I do like these inventions though," he said to the air again, rubbing the spot. "They are very complex. Admirable work."

The boy looked over his shoulder, at the woman standing frozen just beyond the couch.

He smiled.

"It's interesting to finally meet you, Linda. You've helped my dad so much."

The smile turned into a grin.

"Okay, you're right. He's not really my dad, it's true. But he is the father of this body, so... we'll just run with that."

Linda remained frozen, her head thrown back, a fine stream of blood from her nose still suspended in a graceful arch.

He snorted. "There's a really dumb angel headed over here now, coming to kill me I think. I'm annoyed it's not my dad. He's different now, I'd like to ask him what happened."

Turning to her fully, he crossed his legs, and his smile grew sharp.

"Do you think I might have attachment issues, Linda? Should we work on that?"

His boyish laugh was interrupted by the sudden flurry of beating wings.

A breeze ruffled his hair.

Footsteps alighted behind him.

"Your evasions were clever, but I have found you."

"Good talk," he said to the frozen woman, releasing her from his time lock, as he stood to face the angel Remiel.

A spear was pointed at his chest.

Frowning up from it, he found the angel glaring over his head at the therapist, who'd fallen to the floor behind him.

He could hear Linda convulsing back there.

He'd been playing with quite a few parts of her brain, so, little wonder.

"You came to kill me with a stick?" he asked the angel, his face scrunched in disbelief. "You really _are_ stupid."

The angel glared back at him, her hands tightening on her spear. "Let the human go."

"I did, can't you see?" he said with a smirk, gesturing over his shoulder helpfully. "She's doing that seizure all by herself."

The smirk grew into a grin as he crossed his arms. "Okay, yes, I gave her some help... Azrael, are you here yet?"

Remiel took a half-step back. "My sister is not here."

His grin widened. "Oh, yes she is. I can feel her. She knows what's about to happen."

"The death of a single human does not require her full presence," the angel stated calmly. "An instance you could never hope to catch will do what is necessary."

"Please stop talking and _flee_, sister," came a voice from everywhere at once. "Please!"

Despairing.

Remiel paled. "Azrael? Why would you risk this for a human? What are you doing?"

"Wow," he snorted, pointing the Hell blade at the angel as his gaze took in the room. "She is SO dumb!"

"Do not DO THIS," the voice came again, as Remiel took another step back.

Sighing, he glared around the room, spreading his arms wide. "Are you going to take me to your dad?"

Without a sound, Remiel chose the moment to attack, spinning the spear around with enough force to decapitate him.

Taking Azrael's silence as a firm 'no', the Third touched Remiel's spear as it neared his head and turned the weapon to ash.

Then he gave her the Hell blade as a replacement.

And made her thrust it through her own chest.

Remiel's eyes bulged as she took the blade and drove it into herself.

She stared down at it, giving the smallest cough.

Then crumpled to the floor.

"That's for killing my dad!" the Third yelled, pointing at her dramatically.

He giggled then, stooping down to pull the blade free of her chest. It took some doing with his small hands - he couldn't quite get the right leverage, and it was really wedged in there!

When it finally came free, he brushed her forehead gently. "Just kidding, Aunty. I don't really care. I just needed you to die."

Remiel gasped desperately, clawing at the boy's leg within her reach as the blood pulsed freely from the wound. He gave her a smile for her efforts, appreciating her tenacity, then watched closely as her skin grew pale and her body relaxed against the floor.

"Time to collect, Azrael," he murmured, poking the fallen angel's cheek. Remiel's head rolled with the touch. Her brown eyes remained fixed. "Yeah, she's dead now. Come get her."

But nothing happened.

Azrael was still here, frustratingly just out of reach. Remiel's soul remained in her dead body.

He released a heavy sigh, clasping his small hands on his hips. "You're being foolish. I can do worse things than kill her, you know. Do you want that?"

"Please stop," the voice called again. "You don't have to do this."

_I very much do,_ he thought to the space, before yanking the angel's untethered soul free.

Remiel's shimmering form appeared beside her body, clutching at her chest. Confusion rippled the skin of her brow as she pulled her hands away and stared at them, at her unmarked chest, vaporous and translucent.

_Azrael..._ she asked in wonder, staring into the room, _am I...?_

He slapped his palm to his face. "Seriously! You are literally the dumbest!" He glared over his shoulder towards where he felt Azrael watching. "This is your last chance! I will tear her apart!"

The room grew suddenly very hot.

The Third's eyes widened.

And he grinned as a fine sheen of sweat leaked from his pores.

Another funny, yet clever invention.

"Dad?" he asked, turning around with a laugh. "Is that you?!"

Everything exploded.

No, no, wait.

_He_ exploded. His entire body burst aflame, inside and out.

Practically atomized.

And it hurt so _terribly._

The Third allowed for a single high-pitched scream, because his body was really demanding it, and there was some catharsis in that. Honestly, he hadn't had a good scream, ever, and all those countless millennia locked in a ring demanded it too.

Then he snuffed the devouring flames and restored what had been baked, boiled, and melted away, returning his form swiftly to that of a young boy.

Before him his father stood in those goofy robes, dark eyes wide with shock.

The Third smiled.

Then he frowned thoughtfully. He was playing with the big guns now. Staring up at everyone was getting old.

_Time for a change._

Squeezing his eyes closed, he stretched oddly, accelerating his human growth, gritting his teeth at the new pain it caused, until he stood to his greater height, matching that of his father, with a build both slender and defined. His dark hair, not quite as black as his dad's, not quite as light as his mom's, hung over his burning eyes in a careless, shaggy mess.

Smirking, he blew it away, because he'd seen people do that.

It did very little.

He tossed his head back.

The mass of dark hair only flopped forward again.

Finally he slapped and held it aside, and stared triumphantly around the room.

That was now empty.

"Seriously?!" he shouted, throwing up his much longer arms. "I wanted to talk to you!"

The Third paused, listening to his older voice.

A little too shrill, perhaps?

A bus passed outside the house. Speaking the names of every passenger on it, he adjusted his vocal chords to his liking, and stopped each of their hearts as he did so.

But Azrael was gone. Remiel's soul was gone.

And the souls of the passengers vanished with no trace, no trail, just as he'd felt back in the café.

"You're such a fascinating creation, Azrael!" he exclaimed to the air. "You're not like the others at all, are you!"

The fascination melted to disappointment.

Frowning, the Third took in a deep, steadying breath, and let it out slowly.

Killing the sons and daughters of God, as the Second liked to call himself in this reality, had done nothing to bring his enemy out of hiding.

But... the Second had also very recently been human.

With a very human heart.

A human heart that had grown very attached to a life here. To people and places here.

To family and friends.

He could kill the mother and father, certainly. But that felt almost expected. No doubt the Second would simply greet them with love and shelter them in his frustratingly elusive dimension.

No. There was more the Third could do to get the attention he needed.

Another place he could go, where a little girl might have a best friend?

Or ten?

The Third grinned.

And he would have so many more toys to play with.


	37. This Celestial Interaction

Linda woke with a splitting headache and quickly grasped her head with a groan, turning as she did so on a surface that felt soft... and silky?

"What?" she said under her breath, snapping up to full awareness in an instant and finding herself in a very familiar room from a very unfamiliar perspective.

Lucifer's _bed?_

"Wait..." she murmured, pointing randomly as if to pin down the thoughts swirling in a frenzied pace about her head.

"Lucifer?" she called, as it seemed natural to call his name in his place.

But...

No...

That wasn't right...

Lucifer wasn't here any more. This was _Maze's_ place... with...

She started nodding at all of the new accessories and attachments on the headboard.

Because, of course. Maze.

She winced, pressing fingers against a throbbing temple.

Lucifer was with Chloe.

"Wait..." she whispered, as something twisted awfully in her stomach. "Oh no..."

That wasn't right at all.

Lucifer _died._

Her face crumpled, revisiting the news Amenadiel had only shared with her yesterday.

Was it yesterday?

God, why was everything so muddled in her head?

Three days ago? Four?

_Whatever!_

Amenadiel had walked up to her slowly, his face holding such pain. And she'd held him and taken that pain as he'd cried.

She hadn't been able to give it to anyone else. And she couldn't seem to get herself to cry to let it go. She'd just... held onto it, probably out of disbelief.

Denial. That river in fucking Egypt she was always telling her damn clients about. Here she was, neck deep in it, just waiting to get eaten by a crocodile!

Her face scrunched up.

Stupid metaphor.

She was usually better with those.

"Ow..." Hissing, she rubbed her temples, and tried to remember how she'd ended up in Maze's bed.

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

She frowned. Was that the piano?

Twisting on the slippery sheets, she finally looked out from the bedroom at the bar and the elevator beyond.

Her eyes went wide.

"Oh my god?"

Shattered stone, broken bottles, glass..?

The place was a wreck!

Awkwardly sliding off the mattress - with a promise that she'd decontaminate herself later - she stood, clasping her head again to soothe a quick stab of pain, and stared at the mess as she crept to the cracked pillar.

"Maze?!"

Plink.

Linda stiffened.

This was starting to feel like a horror movie.

She did _not_ appreciate that.

Not at all.

"Lucifer?!" she whispered loudly, as she ever so slowly shifted to look at the piano.

Because Amenadiel had explained that Lucifer's ghost was still around. That Lucifer had actually been standing right next to her as they'd talked about him back home, and that he'd wanted to say a few words of thanks.

Some of those words had been 'thanks for the very enjoyable sex' which her significant other had had a great deal of trouble delivering, and had led to a very awkward conversation between Amenadiel and thin air immediately after.

Linda's smirk fell to a frown.

Where was Amenadiel?

Did he have Charlie?

Something horrible rose in her at the thought of her baby, but the feeling, and the stammering thought that chased it was obliterated by the figure standing beside the piano.

Linda sucked in a long, sharp breath and took a step back.

"Please do not say that name again," the figure murmured, before dropping a finger to another key, striking it tentatively, producing yet another note that was weak, flat, and short-lived.

Linda was part way through saying a name that she quickly realized was the one he was referring to, and tried very hard to change course.

"Luuu-ook at you!" she shouted, throwing a hand in his direction, her mind reeling from the sight of Lucifer, somehow alive, in a shimmering gold robe, with his enormous white wings out, and everything!

"You look so _angelic!_" she shouted again, her eyes bulging from their sockets.

Why was she yelling so much?!

"I mean... oh my god! LOOK AT YOU!"

God, she felt like kneeling! Should she pray?!

Lucifer released a heavy breath and looked up from the piano at her.

And then she truly saw his eyes. The heaviness there. The troubled arch of his brow.

There was confusion there, sure.

_I'm babbling, why wouldn't there be?_

But there was also a _terrible_ pain.

"Luu..." she stammered, then stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I'm having trouble here. How-"

"I am not surprised. You took a long time to wake. I worried I had not healed you well." Lucifer looked down at the piano again, reaching out to play another note. "It was... harder... this time."

Linda felt a cold chill.

She'd barely registered what he'd said, because nothing of what she was seeing or hearing of the figure before her said Lucifer at _all._

Just a face and a figure, that wasn't speaking or moving as her friend ever had.

"You aren't Luuhuu..." she clapped a hand over her mouth, then dropped her hands stiffly by her sides. "You aren't him."

And the man with wings before her slowly shook his head without looking up.

"I am not a sibling," he said then, answering her next question.

"But you look-"

Face twisting in sudden anger, the angel grasped the piano by the corner and flung the instrument backwards across the room. It exploded with a cacophonous noise against the bookshelves on the opposite wall.

Linda shrieked and jerked back, quickly covering her horrified mouth.

Papers fluttered to the floor behind him like snow.

The angel shut his eyes tightly. His mouth grew thin.

"I am-"

"So, so, very, very angry," she said quickly through her fingers, a part of her wanting to run away screaming, but another part - a part she knew she'd never get rid of - stepping up to the plate to take control of the situation.

To try and help.

Slowly she extended both hands, palm up.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said, in a low, soothing voice.

The angel who looked like Lucifer, but apparently wasn't, dropped his gaze to the broken stone between them.

"I should not have done that. I have scared you. I apologize."

Linda blinked. That was refreshingly forthright.

"You did scare me, yes," she admitted, in the same even, calm voice. "But, often we do things we shouldn't do when our emotions are too much for us to bear."

Linda winced inwardly. She sounded like a first year psych major.

She wanted so badly to understand what was going on here - if this wasn't Lucifer, then who was it? And if he wasn't a sibling, what other option did that leave?!

But he was obviously triggered by anything to do with Lucifer. She needed to change gears.

"What's your real name?" she asked, hoping to impart a recognition of his legitimacy, of his separation from Lucifer, that he seemed to need.

He looked up at her quickly, the surprise apparent in his eyes.

"Samael."

She nodded with a quick smile, determined not to react to the fact that that was Lucifer's real name too. The Johnson guy had called Lucifer Samael when they'd busted him out of the mental clinic.

Linda winced inside. It still embarrassed her, how much she gushed over that guy, thinking he was actually God.

A thought struck, perhaps a dumb one, but she went with it.

"How do you say that in your language?" she asked, hoping her curiosity might help build a deeper rapport.

Samael frowned.

"I cannot speak in the celestial tongue to you," he said, standing tall before her. "You are too fragile to take it."

Her smile grew a little stiff.

For if there was one thing she hated, of all the things she'd heard and seen and experienced, it was being called 'fragile'.

"I am not," she said, forcing the smile. "I'm not fragile, thank you very much."

He raised an eyebrow. "You are not?"

"I am _not,_" she said again, drawing the last word out and nodding quickly when she'd finished just to drive that point home.

Amenadiel had talked a little about the angelic speech at her prodding, and while he'd never used it around her, she had caught the occasional odd chiming noise from the baby's room when Amenadiel had gone in to check on Charlie.

She was curious, and most certainly _not_ fragile.

"But humans-"

"Nope! I can take it." She straightened and gestured for him to go ahead. "I'm ready."

Samael frowned for a moment, then nodded.

"Very well. My name, in the language of my kind, is,"

Golden flames flickered in his dark eyes, giving Linda a moment of pause.

"Uh.."

**_Samael_**

The sound of his voice washing over her was like standing inside the largest pipe organ inside the largest church in the world, as a full orchestra suddenly lodged in her brain played accompaniment - with a heavy emphasis on winds and horn - at maximum volume.

It was like being run over by an all-brass marching band dressed in wind chimes.

It was the most violently beautiful form of prayer she'd ever heard.

She fell to her knees.

She could not speak.

Samael stepped to her, his wings arching in concern.

The sight made her want to cry.

"You said you were not fragile?" he asked, crouching to her. "I spoke as softly as I could?"

"You're... you're an _angel,_" she mumbled, her voice wrecked by emotion.

And then she did cry - an awful, messy sobbing that went on much longer than she'd meant it to.

It was as if the sight of him gave her permission to express the pain of every little wound she'd ever had.

Samael's hand stretched towards her chest, rested gently over her heart, and began to glow.

An incredible warmth spread through her body from the spot, but quickly flickered and faded.

Leaving her somewhat bereft.

He pulled back, his expression bitter.

"It is not working as it should. I do not know why."

Linda grasped her chest, clutching at the spot he'd held as if she might pull that feeling back by force.

Then she wiped her eyes and shook her head quickly. "No, I feel better, thank you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to lose it like that."

Samael looked utterly confused.

"Lose it?" He looked carefully about them both. "What is it that you have lost?"

Without meaning to, Linda began to laugh, which - she realized a little belatedly - wasn't the best approach in trying to connect with the angel who wasn't Lucifer in front of her. The laughter chased the tears almost nervously, skittishly, and finally ended in a sigh and a smile.

"I guess I'm a _little_ fragile," she said with a smirk, and slowly stood to her feet. Samael matched her movement, standing to his great height before her.

Reaching out tentatively, Linda placed her own hand against his chest. Watching her, the slightest frown touched his brow.

"I lost a friend recently and it hit me hard," she said, staring at the contact between them, this strange contact with Lucifer's double. "Sometimes it's hard to express how we're feeling. It comes out in weird ways." She looked up at him with a smirk. "Like crying and laughing in the space of a moment."

His frown softened and he slowly nodded.

"Or destroying something that does not belong to you on a sudden whim," he said softly.

Understanding her point completely.

"Wow," she said, a little blindsided. "Yes. Like that. Samael... can I call you Samael, or would you prefer I call you..."

A frown darkened his face as she opened her mouth to continue, but it was lost to confusion and incredulity, as Linda tried her very, very best to say his name back in the way she had heard.

She failed utterly, spectacularly, immensely - mimicking the equivalent of a Stradivarius violin with a rubber band guitar made out of a crayon-scrawled tissue box. But she did it and that's what counted, because the look on Samael's face was priceless.

A small, sincere smile lit his face.

"You cannot speak celestial at all."

"No, I really can't."

"I do appreciate the extremely poor attempt you have made."

"Thank you," she answered, her mouth twisting at his choice of words. "What I was trying to say was, did you want to talk about what made you angry enough to throw a piano across a room?"

The chest beneath her hand rose and fell with a sigh, and he stepped back, his eyes growing distant.

"I do not."

She pulled her hand back. She'd lost ground there, and that was a shame.

He must have seen her disappointment, for his voice softened and he attempted a small smile.

"You are kind. But you are a human. You cannot comprehend the complexities of celestial interactions."

Linda stared up into his dark eyes.

And tried.

She really tried.

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, her mouth a thin line. "I cannot comprehend the complexities of celestial interactions?"

He nodded.

Her smile grew sharp and her voice loud. "I cannot _comprehend,_" she drew her hands up and made vicious air quotes she knew he wouldn't understand, "the _COMPLEXITIES_ of celestial _interactions!_"

Samael's brow furrowed. "That is what I said, yes. You seem agitated, but I do not understand why."

"Because _I,_" she pointed a finger at her chest, "CANNOT compre_hend_ the comPLEXITIES," she waved her hands dramatically, "of _celestial_ interactions."

The last word left her a hiss.

Samael stepped back.

Linda stepped forward, thrusting a finger towards his chest. "Let me tell _you_ what _I_ understand. I've been listening to the 'complexities of celestial interactions' for six years now! Wanna know what I've learned?"

The angel gave her an apprehensive look. "No?"

"I've learned that the whole damn lot of you are just as screwed up as we are down here! Fathers and sons fighting, mothers and sons fighting, siblings fighting! Siblings killing each other! Fathers punishing their children because they wouldn't fall in line! Mothers threatening everyone who gets in their way!"

She had to stop then, because that brought up an awful memory she still hadn't properly dealt with. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing, then looked up at him again.

"I have talked to angels, demons, the goddess, the devil, and a man connected to God in some way I still don't understand. All of you have problems I've heard echoed over and over again with the clients I see every damn day. Your interactions, no matter how evolved or superior you think you are, are entirely all too _human._"

Samael's expression shifted between surprise, to disbelief, to indignation. Emotions she'd seen play out on Lucifer's face in the exact same way. His arms closed tightly about his chest - a defensive effort to shield himself from what she was saying.

_Right._

She had a terrible feeling she knew who Samael was. What he was. Why he looked like Lucifer. And there was a way perhaps that she could prove what she knew, and how she knew it.

But he wasn't going to like it.

"I've had many, _many_ 'celestial interactions' that were very _intricate,_ Samael, including a bunch with the angel who looked _exactly_ like you do. So exactly I'm guessing that dimple I used to smack on his ass is on _yours_ as well."

At his stunned expression, she felt a quick stab of guilt. But she couldn't stop, because it was all she needed to confirm what she feared.

"God resurrected you, didn't he? You look like Lucifer because you _were_ Lucifer, you just don't remember right because he's played with your memories for some reason. But a part of you knows, and that's where that anger is coming from. And I believe that's why you lashed out just now, in this penthouse that you used to own, destroying the very piano that _you_ used to _play_."

The angel before her looked utterly broken.

And she realized at that moment that she'd gone too far.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quickly, reaching for him. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been so blunt, that was-"

Flames leapt from Samael's skin, engulfing his form as his eyes grew as bright as the sun.

Linda shrank back from the heat of it, raising a hand to protect her face as the fire grew, lapping hungrily at the ceiling of the penthouse. The sound of the flames consuming the air about his form became a roar as Samael spread his great, fiery wings wide.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, falling back against the broken glass and stone strewn on the floor as the flames grew hotter still, and the angel's voice boomed above the maelstrom.

"WHAT OF THIS, HUMAN!" he roared, the flames engulfing his form pulsing with each word. "HAVE YOU HAD THIS 'CELESTIAL INTERACTION' BEFORE!"

Linda curled up with a terrified cry, oblivious to the cutting glass, shielding herself from the waves of heat coming from his blazing figure.

"HOW DARE YOU ADDRESS ME IN THIS WAY! I AM NOT LUCIFER! THE FALLEN ONE WAS UNDONE, AND I AM NOT HE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"

She could only sag against the stone and glass, the air she needed to breathe stolen by the flames spreading wildly about her - licking hungrily at the spilled alcohol in a circle on the floor, climbing the bar behind her, rippling along the ceiling in hellish waves.

And as she felt herself passing out, no longer able to breathe, her skin baking in the heat, she realized something really important.

She'd been _waay_, way off on that hunch.

This wasn't Lucifer at all.

And she was pretty damn sure she was about to die.

* * *

_Not gunna lie, not getting a single review after posting the last two chapters on this site is a bit of a downer. _

_I can see folks are reading it, and that's lovely - thank you :) _

_But it really makes a difference to hear from folks. Hope you'll leave a note, if you have the time._

_Many more wild things to come. Didn't manage to finish the story this past break, but I'll give it another go this weekend._

_Hope you're all staying safe and well._


	38. The Desire For Destruction

Samael wanted nothing more than to consume the entire world at that moment. His rage demanded nothing less - fueling his firestorm until every wall, every surface, save the body of the woman before him, was devoured by his flame.

On the precipice of destruction, he grasped at justification.

If he destroyed this world, the dark child might be destroyed.

If he destroyed this world, his father might understand his pain.

If he destroyed this world... they would know him no more as _Lucifer._

How he hated that name. How he hated the one who had come before him. How he wished he could stand before that cursed fool now and split his atoms into dust!

The fire roared with the thought. With the desire for destruction.

With a moan, the woman at his feet fell limp. Blood welled from the cuts on her arms. Her skin was red and covered in sweat.

Samael blinked, the brilliant white light of his eyes shuttered briefly.

What was he doing?

Destroying the world?

Or simply this woman?

_No. No more._

Samael snuffed the fires, drawing the heat back from the woman's body, restoring the air for her lungs.

Which she drew in with a coughing breath.

He frowned deeply, the flames receding from his form.

This had been wrong.

Had his sister been right? That _he_ was broken, just as the other had been?

For would not only one so broken harm an innocent in this way?

With a sound of disgust, Samael drew the woman from the floor, pulling her back up to the bedroom where he had first brought her. Everything was black now, charred, seeping thin, dancing wisps of smoke, but the bed would still hold her. Perhaps this time the healing would work as it should?

It had to.

He placed his hands atop her head and over her singed shirt and he willed her body to heal.

And this time, absolutely nothing happened.

Closing his eyes tightly, he called upon every reserve he had, seeking to force the knitting of the woman's sliced skin and the cooling of a body pushed to its limit.

But his efforts bore no fruit.

Samael turned slowly and sat down beside her, folding his wings against his back. He stared out at the room - at the destruction he had wrought.

He had failed to save his sister.

He had failed to stop the child.

And he had harmed a human woman out of anger.

Shame welled within him.

"You... you hate him so much," came a dry voice beside him.

Samael twisted. The woman had turned her head slightly to look at him.

She was in pain. He could see it in her eyes.

He had done a terrible thing here.

Gently, he grasped the woman's hand.

"Do not speak. I have hurt you and I cannot seem to heal what I have done."

The woman's eyes were bloodshot and wet.

"Why do you hate him so much?"

Samael shook his head. "It is unimportant. I am sorry for what I have done, I-"

"He wasn't a bad man, Samael."

He watched her for a moment before leaning in to speak. "He was not a man at all. He was as I am."

Her eyes rolled oddly and for a moment he thought she might be losing consciousness.

But she merely made an irritated sound and kept talking.

"He wasn't a _bad angel,_" she said, her voice lowering.

Her fingers squeezed his own.

Samael could only frown again.

This one's mind was still unwell. He had failed her so utterly.

"He Fell from Heaven, human. He was driven out and ruled over sinners."

"Yes, but-"

"He is the _literal_ interpretation of a 'bad' angel."

The woman raised a slightly singed eyebrow.

"Is?"

Samael stared at her, his frown deepening. "Was." He released a heavy sigh and withdrew his hand. "It does not matter. He is gone. Father destroyed him to create me. I do not expect you to understand that, but-"

With no warning at all, the woman's face crumpled, and she began to cry.

He took her hand again. "I understand, the pain must be great, perhaps if I try again I-"

"Wrong kind of pain," the woman managed through gulping sobs. "A bad sunburn and cuts I can handle." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and the sobs grew. "I can't handle the loss of my friend."

And she cried as he sat and watched her numbly, not understanding at all.

"Why would you love someone so terribly wrong?" he finally whispered, without truly meaning to say anything at all. The impulse had gripped him oddly.

With an aggravated sound, the woman pressed her head back against the charred pillow.

"He wasn't bad, and he wasn't 'terribly wrong'," she cried through sniffles. "He was just..."

Samael waited, then offered what he could.

"Destructive? Selfish? Rebellious?"

The woman gave him a gentle look and squeezed his hand again.

"Human."

"I am not," Samael said, withdrawing his hand.

Those eyes rolled again, and it became somewhat clearer it was an expression of irritation.

"No, I meant HE was."

"He was not. Did we not discuss this before?"

"Oh my god," the woman groaned, driving her head back against the pillow again. "I don't mean literally! I meant that he made _mistakes,_ Samael. That he was _flawed,_ just like all of us." She smirked. "Just like all of you."

Samael stiffened, straightening where he sat.

"That is incredibly insulting," he said firmly. "To call an angel flawed, is-"

"Accurate, mister," the lady snorted, gesturing emphatically. "It's accurate! I should know!"

He stood to his feet quickly, his brow drawing down hard.

"You're not going to 'flame on' again, are you?" she whispered, pressing back into the bed as her eyes grew wide. "Because I'd like to point out that I _am_ very fragile - I'm owning it now. Extremely fragile human here, do not toast!"

Samael took a long, slow breath, tempering the fires of his anger.

"You use the strangest words, human."

"Linda."

"Yet another strange word. I should have healed this damage, I do not-"

"It's my _name,_ Samael. I prefer it to 'human'."

"Ah. My apologies." He bowed slightly, his hand at his chest. "Well met, Linda."

A flash of movement caught his eye to his right. Turning to look, he locked eyes with himself.

A mirror.

Frowning, he studied himself. Tall. Black hair with a slight curl. Dark eyes holding a storm of emotions he wanted nothing to do with.

Quickly, he looked away - at the gentle arcs of his folded wings, luminescent in the small space. At the long luxurious cut of his robe. His hands, slender and strong, curled at his sides.

Beautiful.

Haunted.

"What are you looking at?"

He glanced down at her, then back.

"I am looking at myself."

A small smile tugged at her mouth. "Interesting."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

She shrugged, then hissed, pulling up an arm to study a cut.

Frowning, he looked back at the mirror, turning slightly towards the bed to lift his robe.

"Uh," Linda stammered, eye level with his pelvis and watching as he lifted the robe higher. "What are you doing?"

Ignoring her, he turned further and drew the robe from his well-defined buttocks completely.

"Oh my god - ARE YOU FLASHING ME?! WHY ARE YOU FLASHING ME!?"

And there it was.

The dimple.

He let the robe slip from his fingers and he stared back into eyes bereft. Behind his tall form, his wings sagged towards the burnt tile.

"Oh," she said in a low voice. "Oohh. You were checking... ah. That's upset you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so incredibly rude."

"I am a copy of another," he whispered, his gaze still caught by his own eyes. Dark eyes that were beginning to smolder. "A poor copy who can no longer heal, who-"

"You keep mentioning healing," Linda said abruptly. "Lucifer couldn't do that."

Samael stared down at her in confusion.

"He could not?"

"No. He had this intense desire mojo - and hoo-boy," she said, her eyes widening as she fanned herself, "was it intense."

She smiled at him then. "You don't have that. Which means you're not an exact copy."

He slowly lowered to sit beside her. "I do not understand. I should have all of the gifts of the first Samael. You say he did not heal - you are certain?"

Linda snorted. "Oh, yeah. If he could heal, he wouldn't have asked me to kill him when Chloe got sick."

Samael blinked.

"He ended up stopping his own heart though, because I was too chicken to do it." She looked towards the window and shook her head. "It was scary. We couldn't get him back at first, so that was terrifying." With a small smile, she looked back at him. "But he came back finally and saved her."

It was all a revelation, but the name she had used stayed with him, pausing in his mind as if held there. Chloe. Remiel had called the mother that. Chloe Jane Decker?

The name was followed by the phantom of a voice, oddly cut off.

_Chloe Jane Decker, I lo-_

Running.

He was running from something.

Why?

"Samael?"

Blinking again, he looked down at her.

"Yes?"

"Where did you go?"

Tilting his head, he frowned. "I have been sitting here beside you without moving."

Linda laughed. "My God, you're all so literal!" She tapped her temple. "I meant in your head. You were thinking about something."

"Running," he said softly, his breath leaving him in a drawn-out sigh. "I feel as if I am running. But I do not know why. It has come to me before. Fleeting."

Linda was nodding, her eyes narrowed.

"Weird."

"Indeed."

"The healing that you're talking about though. You can't do it now?"

He shook his head, his gaze darkening.

"But you could before?"

"Yes."

The woman winced as she sat up slowly, resting her back between two metal rings set in the headboard.

Grasping at her head again, she squeezed her eyes closed. "Ow."

Samael looked at her in sympathy. He had done poorly by her. The matter of her mind was still wounded.

She straightened and looked at him intently.

"Okay, one more celestial patient it is. What's changed?"

Samael raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"You could do it before," she said, pointing to the left. "But you can't do it now." She drew her finger to the right, then swung it back and forth. "What's happened between now and then?"

Frowning deeply, Samael watched her hand, then looked back at her.

"Much," he said flatly.

Linda rolled her eyes once more.

It was definitely a sign of irritation. He was quite pleased with himself for learning this.

"Can you elaborate? Start from when you last healed, to now. Go."

The request brought an uncomfortable feeling he could not quite label. He sat back and crossed his arms.

She smiled. "I get it. You don't want to talk about this. It'll help, though. Please."

So prompted, and with a heavy sigh, he did. Explaining how he had brought the mother - Chloe - back from the brink of death after the birth of the dark child and how that healing had been flawless. He was trying to continue, but the woman kept making strange, sputtering sounds.

"Chloe had A BABY!?" the woman squawked once more. "But... but... but she wasn't even...?! How did...?!"

"May I continue?"

Linda covered her mouth briefly. "I'm sorry, I'm very confused... and shocked! I had no idea!"

"I healed her and she acted oddly towards me, and I-"

"Oh god," the woman whispered. "Poor Chloe. She didn't know you weren't..."

"She did not."

Raising his fingers to his own lips, he pressed there briefly. "She... kissed me."

Linda winced. "Oh... Chloe."

"I did not mind it."

"I'm sure you didn't," the woman said with a little lilt to her voice. "Your predecessor liked it very much."

"She was confused then. She asked me what they had done to me, how had they made me forget."

"Same mistake I made."

"Indeed."

Samael's gaze dropped to his shimmering robe. He did not want to tell her of hurting Chloe by yelling at her in his tongue. It simply brought back his shame.

"My sister, Remiel, came and I learned the truth," he said, in a voice low and tired. "I healed a few at the hospital afterwards but it was not the same. I could not find the child and I went back to the meadow of my birth."

"I'll ask about the 'child' later, because _WOW_, but, tell me, how did you feel there? When you went back?"

He looked past her out the window. At the dull, oddly yellow-ish sky.

"Angry."

"Talk to me about that."

He sighed in response, tracking a bird with slender white wings descending from a rooftop.

"Why were you angry?" she persisted.

His gaze snapped to her, molten.

"Would you not be angry if you found out that your face, your name, your very being, belonged to someone else? One who had been hated? Reviled? One who had borne a terrible threat to this world, that even your Father feared? Would you not be angry?!"

Linda reached out to grasp his hand.

The flames sank from his eyes as he looked down at her small fingers, wrapped over his own.

"Yes. Absolutely. You have every right to feel that way."

Mollified, he nodded, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter.

"Indeed. I like this talking that we are doing. You are confirming that I am right. That is good."

"Mmm-hmm. So you're angry at God right now."

Samael's gaze widened.

Of course he was angry. He had admitted this to his Father. But a simple human could not know such a thing. It could lead them to doubt the will of his Father, lead them away from Him, and that was a terrible thing.

He shook his head. "My Father is the creator. He is the wisest of all, above all of creation. I am merely..." his lips thinned, "somewhat upset at the choice that was made."

"'Somewhat upset'?" she echoed, her voice rising. "Well, _that's_ diplomatic."

"It is appropriate."

"But inaccurate. You were livid. I could see that in your eyes a few moments ago."

Samael's nostril's flared as he glared down at the charred bed between them.

The fabric, already singed, started to smoke.

"Samael," the woman said softly, squeezing his hand to draw his gaze up. "Please be honest with me... and please stop starting fires."

Squeezing his eyes shut, the corners of his mouth digging down deep, Samael tried to be honest. But it came with a such an upswell of emotion he felt on the edge of losing control again.

"I am... finding it hard," he finally managed. "I am... unable to stop what is happening. I cannot stop the child. He restores himself effortlessly. And I cannot turn my thoughts from that woman. She mourns for me, for what was lost, but it is not truly for me, but for the _other_ one. The one my Father destroyed, then remade, cursing me with his form. A form hated, despised; he spawned the one who will end it all, and I carry that burden now - I carry it! I brought this child into the world! I am the hated one! I AM DESPISED!"

Eyes blazing, he turned his head sharply and words shot from him like lightning, no longer restrained by the woman's weak language.

**I HATE MY FATHER FOR WHAT HE HAS DONE!**

The woman's scream barely rose above the sound of shattering glass, as the windows along the entire wall of the suite exploded outwards, joined by a flurry of clutter forced out into the void.

Squeezing his eyes closed, he caught the fires of his rage just in time, pulling them back from expression before they could consume the woman, the room, and the entire city beyond the thin barrier of the building's bounds.

And when he opened his eyes again, he felt... somewhat _better._

At first he did not know where the woman had gone, but then he spotted her, wedged between the bed and the thin stretch of wall, cowering beside a window frame lined with broken glass and open to the hazy air. The sounds of screeching tires, horns and sirens rose from the streets below.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in shock.

And she flinched when he next spoke.

"I think I am fixed now, Linda," he said calmly, giving her a small smile. "You are very wise. I think I have addressed what was wrong."

"...oh dear..." she whispered, in a voice so soft a sudden breeze sweeping into the room almost overwhelmed it.

The smile faltered, but he pressed on, needing to be right. Needing what he had expressed, the terrible thing he had said, to be gone from him.

"I should be able to heal now, should I not?"

Linda shook her head in an almost imperceptible motion.

When she spoke the word was drawn out and low.

"Nnnno..."

The fear in her eyes was twined with a terrible pity.

"...I don't think so."

* * *

_We leave these two and visit someone else for the next chapter. Been a bit stalled with writing this week, mostly because work has been intense. I'm about 10 chapters ahead though and writing the big confrontation that's to come. More chapters will wrap up things after that. No idea how long this beast will be after all is done. %)_

_Thanks for reading, and thanks for all of the comments and reviews. It brightens my day considerable to hear everyone's thoughts on the story so far. :) Take care!_

_Edit: uh... just realized this chapter is 3k... wow. Sorry. XD I write long._


	39. Making A Scene

_Hey! This is the second chapter I've posted most recently (one yesterday, one today... at least I think... days are blurring together X)_

_It's not as long, with a change of scene, which is always... nice? _

_Leave a comment if you can, and thanks for reading. __I hope you're all doing well. :)_

* * *

"You're sure you're okay?"

The voice pulled Chloe back from the thoughtless daze she'd been in, staring out the window of the cop car at the sluggish LA traffic.

She turned, focusing, snapping back to the now with a pang of dread and sorrow that left her feeling hollow inside. Her hands lay tightly twined in her bloodied lap, the knuckles pale.

"I'm fine, Trevor," she said, managing the smallest of smiles as she caught the cop's eye in the rearview mirror. "I really appreciate the lift."

The man's mouth curled in a hesitant smile. "Sure thing, Decker. You promise you'll let the docs check you out?"

Chloe tried to catch her sigh before it fell, and failed.

She got it. She was covered in blood. That was a hard thing to look past. She'd done her best to explain the situation when he pulled up, rushed out of the car, and tried to call for an ambulance on the spot. She'd tried her best not to flash him to prove she was fine. Her color, her responsiveness, and insistence had finally convinced him to let her sit in the back while he did his best impersonation of the guy from Baby Driver to get her to Cedars-Sinai.

"I promise," she finally said, turning to stare back out the window as they took the right onto Gracie Allen.

The flashing lights caught her eye first, then the mass of squad cars and ambulances. Ambulances outside of an emergency ward were normal.

But maybe not _that_ many?

"What the hell?" she murmured, as Trevor guided the vehicle through the knot of cars. More lined the street on the opposite side, and she recognized Sarah, from her precinct, standing outside the entrance smoking.

The woman's eyes were wide. She looked seriously spooked.

"Yeah, heard it over the radio. Multiple homicide in the cafeteria. Sure you don't want to go to a different hospital?"

The dread was drowning.

Her heart hammered against her chest as she groped for the door handle.

Of course there wasn't one.

"I need to get out," she said, her voice rising. "Please open the door. I need to find Trixie."

Trevor parked and turned back to her. "Trixie?"

"Dan should have her. I need to make sure she's okay." Chloe slapped at the door. "Come on!"

The cop frowned, but climbed out and came around to open her door.

"She a friend of yours?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

Chloe stared at him, feeling a sudden urge to throw up.

"Beatrice, Trevor! My daughter!? I bring her to the precinct all the time!"

Trevor's frown deepened, and his eyes grew guarded.

"Maybe I should call someone," he said, looking towards the emergency ward doors. "They could help."

"You bought her that stuffed martian on her sixth birthday, Trevor!" she yelled, stabbing at him with a finger. "She loved that toy! Don't tell me you don't remember that!"

The man's expression shifted to pity. "Honey, I think something's really wrong. I'm going to walk you in."

"No!" she cried, shoving him back, away from her.

Shoving what his words suggested away.

"Why is this happening?!" she yelled, knowing that made her seem even more mad, but she couldn't help it.

Why didn't he remember Trixie?!

She broke into a run, pushed through the doors, and shoved her way past a line of people waiting at security.

The guard's eyes bulged at the sight of her bloodied gown, and he caught her as she tried to run through the metal detector.

"Whoa, lady - Jesus!" he snapped, holding her as she tried to push him away. Twisting, he yelled over his shoulder at the glass-lined check-in stations, "Yo! Need a stretcher out here!"

"No, I'm FINE!" she growled, struggling to free herself. "Let me go! I have to find my daughter!"

A man in nurses' scrubs pushed through the doors to the right of check-in a moment later, wheeling a thin stretcher with black straps dangling.

Chloe shook her head, seeing where this might go, and tried to drop out of the security guard's hold around her chest.

Coming through emergency had been a mistake! Dammit!

"I'm not hurt!" she cried, as the ploy failed, and the guard lifted her bodily and planted her on the stretcher.

"Secure her - she's going nuts!" the man yelled, trying to hold her still.

"Buddy!" the nurse yelled back, grasping the guards arm. "You're making this worse! Calm down and back up!"

"Do you need help?" came Trevor's voice, as the cop pushed his way through the line. "Chloe, you okay?"

Crap! She didn't have time for this!

The guard relaxed his hold, and Chloe took her chance, before anyone else could get involved.

She shoved the nurse back while apologizing under her breath, grabbed his badge, and rolled to her feet before launching herself at the doors and slapping the card against the reader.

They opened just as the group of three men rushed her - ducking, she scampered out of their reach then straightened to run down the corridor, past rooms with the wounded and sick, past nurses who jerked back in shock, past signs she really should have been reading to figure out how to get to her old room.

She had no idea where that was? And what the hell was she doing?! Making a scene and pushing to get committed!?

"Dammit!" she yelled, taking a left and running past an open area filled with computers and nurses and doctors, all of whom were watching her with stunned expressions.

"Ma'am! Stop!" someone cried. A thunder of footfalls followed - clearly she'd attracted a crowd, which was just _perfect!_ How the hell was she supposed to get out of this?!

A sign finally caught her eye - Second Tower, with small icons for restrooms and food.

_Cafeteria_

She needed to find Dan - if Sarah was over there, maybe Ella too, they'd know where he was!

Chloe twisted, her bare feet sliding on the linoleum, and took the corridor, scanning the badge on the run to open the double doors. She pushed past a stretcher carrying an old woman, almost knocking the attendant over, and ran for the elevator as the doors started to slide shut.

She hopped inside, startling a man carrying flowers whose eyes were rimmed red.

Finally she stopped, checking the line of buttons with a quick nod.

And then she tried very hard to act normal.

This involved making no big deal out of the fact that she was breathing heavily, wearing a gown open in the back, saturated in dried blood from the waist down.

"Hi," she said, in between hard breaths, with a forced smile back at the man.

Eyes wide, he shuffled closer to the back of the elevator.

The music was awful.

Why didn't anyone remember Trixie?

A chime filled the space as they reached the next floor, and she gave the man another hopefully reassuring smile as the doors slowly opened.

To reveal the nurse whose badge she'd stolen, a large attendant who looked ready for anything, and Trevor, who stepped forward with hands raised, wearing the same pitying expression he'd given her before.

Chloe's shoulders slumped.

_Perfect._


	40. The Career Path of a Therapist

_Back with Linda and Samael here. Last chapter with the two together, and the last long 'chatty' chapter before the big storm that's about to come. I feel it is important to mention at this time that I don't write tragedy. Just seems important, no reason. You'll understand at the end of this chapter. %)_

_Thanks for reading. Thanks for the comments :) Let me know what you think, if you have time. Take care of yourselves!_

* * *

"Perhaps if I tried to heal again?" Samael said, reaching out with his palms raised.

Linda shrank back against the wall as her heart hammered away in her chest.

"I'd rather you not touch me," she whispered, her eyes wide, her gaze riveted on those hands, on that face, that moments ago had roared in such rage, with such cacophonous strength, that all of the windows had blown out.

The angel slowly pulled back and stood there, frowning.

His eyes were normal now, and the brows above arched somewhere between hurt and confusion. They had _not_ been anything close to normal when he'd destroyed half of the room. They had been blazing, livid, and his mouth had stretched beyond anything she'd ever seen on any human.

She wanted to be somewhere else, very badly.

She might be going into shock.

This was bad.

"I understand," Samael said with a small nod. "I have frightened you."

So calm. How could he be so calm now?! After what he'd done?! And the words he had said before he'd shouted in that impossible language...

How could she help him with that? What was there to say?!

_Yes, you're a copy, and sure, you're a copy of the devil, but maybe we could look on the bright side of that?_

_You can always toast your own marshmallows?_

Pain flared in her skull again. Things felt loose and wrong. Wincing, she grasped at her head, and words way too honest tumbled from her.

"Samael, you haven't really _stopped_ frightening me. Could you step back a little more, please?"

The sound of her honesty brought a swell of fear. She shouldn't be saying things like that to this... _thing!_

God! _'Thing?!'_

That was a terrible word to use!

But Samael did, stepping back to the stone pillar, giving her a little more room to negotiate where she was, and where she might go next.

Beyond her knees, curled tight to her chest, the wall opened to nothing. Broken glass rimmed the edge, and spilled over her feet, but there was nothing between her and at least a thirteen-story drop.

She started to shake.

"Why are you trembling?" his voice asked.

So calm, but concerned. He sounded _human._

But he wasn't.

None of them were.

"I... I think I'm going into shock," she whispered, unable to pull her eyes away from the outside. "But, I'm also scared of heights, and that's... that's a biiig height. Oh, God."

The shaking worsened.

Her fingers turned to claws against her legs. "I'm not sure I can move."

Samael's voice turned warm and soft. "You can, Linda."

Shaking her head, she looked at him, as tears began to fill her eyes. "No, I don't think I can."

Something happened then, something soft and quite beautiful. Something she'd seen once before, in her office.

Samael's skin grew bright, radiating a warm, clear, shimmering light.

No fire, no roaring flame.

His figure became a beacon of something that felt pure and whole and wonderful.

Love.

She felt _love._

And it melted every fear in her heart.

The voice that swelled from the figure wrapped around her like the most comforting hug.

"You can."

Her fingers relaxed against her skin.

Her shaking softened and fell away.

And with a soft "Oh," and a young smile, Linda stood and shifted to face him.

Then promptly shrieked and fell on the bed, grabbing at her foot.

"Ouch!" she yelped. "Glass! There's glass in my toe! Owie!"

The light faded. Samael crouched beside her, reaching to comfort.

This time she didn't jerk away.

"I'm sorry," she said, stilling to look at him. "I'm scared. I'm just human. And you're not. I think I keep forgetting that. I'm sorry I asked you to get away from me."

Samael plucked the glass from her toe, and held the spot for a moment.

And frowned.

"Still not working, huh?"

He shook his head, looking troubled.

"I said something terrible before," he said quietly. "I am concerned I am following in the footsteps of my predecessor."

Linda nodded and offered a small smile.

"I know you don't understand this, but that wouldn't be the worst thing. He was a good ma... _angel,_ in the end."

Those dark eyes rose to her with such terrible longing she felt her heart twist in her chest.

"Was he?" he whispered.

Linda's mouth fell open.

_Was Lucifer still in there?_

She wanted so much to say his name then. But she bit it back.

She nodded instead, and gave a small smile. "Yeah."

The eyes shifted slightly, growing conflicted again, and what she'd seen of her old friend was lost.

She tried not to let that hurt.

"What did you say in your language, just now?" she asked.

His gaze grew haunted and fell to his hands.

"I cannot say it again. It was terrible."

Linda smiled very gently, and reached to grasp his hand. It was warm, but limp. There was a great deal of shame here, in his posture, his manner, his voice.

She took in all the pieces of their conversation. She drew upon her many moments with Lucifer, and all of his yearning pain.

"It was about your father," she said.

His dark eyes rose to her, wide.

"You understand celestial?" he whispered, fear and awe in his voice.

Linda snorted. Her eyes grew wide, and she immediately tried to cover up the snort with a cough, which turned into a real cough when she went a little too far, and soon she was hacking up a lung and tears were streaming from her eyes, and she was yelling at herself inside.

_Stop that, Linda! Get a hold of yourself!_

"You are breaking?" he asked, grasping her shoulder. "Do you need aid?"

Shaking her hand in the air, she finally got herself under control.

"Jesus, sorry."

"That is not my name."

That almost started her on another round of snort coughing. Perhaps she _was_ slipping into shock...

Clearing her throat a few times, she took a deep breath in and tried to take command of the situation again.

"Samael."

"That is my name."

"Yes, I know that."

"You seemed confused before."

Linda sighed, wearily, and refocused.

"Ah, you are rolling your eyes again. I have learned that means you are irritated."

"You're angry at your father. I understand."

Samael stiffened. Shaking his head quickly, he stared pointedly out the window.

_Right back where we started._

_Time to be a little more direct._

"It's perfectly nor-mal," she said, emphasizing the word, "for children to be angry at, and even _hate,_ their parents, when they feel wronged by them."

The look Samael gave her, as his head snapped back to face her, almost set her on a chain of snort coughing again.

It reminded her of those animal videos, where an unfortunate cat or dog ended up with a slice of cheese on their face.

He was, quite simply, stunned, but in a way far beyond simple human expression.

Which left her a little stunned, honestly, when he didn't move _at all._

He didn't breathe. He didn't blink.

And it heightened the alien-ness she'd felt from him before.

A stunned celestial.

What had she done?

"Samael?" she finally asked. "Are you... okay?"

With a look of sudden anguish, Samael's great wings unfurled...

...and he vanished.

Linda blinked, staring at a now empty room as her hair settled back over her shoulders.

"What... the... FU-"

She clamped her hand over her mouth.

She couldn't say that word! What if he was still here? What if he'd just gone... invisible?

_Talk about epic avoidance issues!_

"Samael?" she whispered, staring about herself.

Amenadiel hadn't mentioned anything about invisibility, but his talent almost made him invisible - was it like that?

_Amenadiel..._

_Charlie?_

A terrible, unwanted dread gripped her, as something stabbed through her head, a pain that made her grasp at her skull.

"Owww, god..."

Something dripped onto her leg. Something warm.

Something red.

"Oh."

She raised a hand to her nose, as another drop splashed into her palm. Then another.

"Oh."

She'd never had a nosebleed in her life.

The flow continued, as her head throbbed.

Fear scrapped across her skin. This didn't feel good at all. What was she supposed to do? Tilt her head back, right?

She did so, pinching her nostrils, and felt the blood draining down the back of her throat.

"Gah, that's awful."

There was a flurry of wingbeats with a sudden burst of wind, and Samael stood before her, his gaze lowered, looking terribly contrite.

"I am sorry. I am not behaving as I should. I am running from my feelings, instead of facing them."

Linda stared at him.

Unbelievable! It only took a complete remaking of Lucifer to get him to realize what he was doing!

"Linda," he said, his eyes widening as he looked up. He rushed to sit beside her. "you are bleeding."

"Very... astute," she mumbled against her hand, in the voice of a muppet, since her fingers were still clamped over her nose.

"I must be able to heal again, Linda. You are not well. I could not finish before and you are still hurt."

She blinked, swallowing the blood as it slipped down her throat.

"Before?"

And it came to her then, all of the moments he'd talked about how he'd failed her, how damaged she had been. Waking up here when... when she'd been... where had she been before?

_Where's my baby?_

The pain doubled, and she grasped her head with a groan.

"I.. I can't think right," she murmured. "Something's really wrong..."

"He did great damage to your mind. I did what I could but, clearly, it was not enough."

Linda winced up at him. "He?"

"The dark child." Samael released a heavy breath. "Lucifer's son. Though that is not all he is."

"Oh," she whispered, blinking through the pain. "Oh."

The blood was not stopping. Why wasn't it stopping? Was it meant to leak this much?!

"You were right, Linda."

"Was I?" she mumbled, staring at the blood drying on her fingers.

"Yes. I am angry at my father for what he did. I... I hate him for it."

"That's normal," she whispered, tilting her head up again.

With a queasy lurch, the room spun with the motion, and she fell backwards.

Samael caught her and held her.

"I do not believe your hospitals will understand this damage," he said softly.

"Oh, great," she muttered, staring up at his dark eyes.

And she smiled.

Because she hadn't been this close to Lucifer for a long time.

It'd been a long time since she'd kissed those delicious lips.

Grimacing, Linda shook her head, which just hurt more.

_This isn't Lucifer. Stop it._

"Does recognizing that I hate my father fix the issue?" Samael asked, earnestly, much like he'd asked before.

Linda swallowed the blood dripping down the back of her throat and shook her head with a smirk. "If it was that easy I'd be out of a job."

He looked confused, but she didn't have the energy to explain the career path of a therapist.

Or how long it could take someone to forgive another.

She tried very hard to think.

Her mind kept hanging on the moment he'd pressed his hand to her chest and that beautiful warm glow had appeared.

Not unlike the light he'd shone with to pull her up out of her terrible fear.

She frowned.

"The light," she murmured. "Where does it come from?"

Samael stared down at her. "What do you mean?"

"It's like ETs finger, right? Gzap?" she said, poking Samael's forehead. She giggled, but it turned wet and she coughed a small glob of blood against her palm.

"Crap."

He stared down at her, his expression grave.

"If you die, I will take you to Heaven myself, do not fear."

The words sank in and dropped like a stone to her gut.

"Don't say that," she mumbled. "I'm not dying."

He said nothing.

Fear swamped her suddenly. "I'm not!"

The force of her words sent her into another coughing fit, one that left her dizzy.

"Oh no," she whispered, staring up at his dark eyes.

"What did you mean 'the light'?" he asked.

"Is it an awful thing to die?" she murmured, suddenly terribly, horribly afraid.

A soft smile spread on his face and his eyes grew warm and bright.

"No, Linda. I will take you to my Father's kingdom. It is a place of great beauty and joy."

She frowned up at him, her eyes wide.

She wanted to cry.

"But... Samael..." she whispered. "I don't think that's where I'm going."

The look in his eyes shifted, uncertain, but he shook his head.

"The light, Linda, you mentioned light? Did you mean when I pulled you away from the wall?"

Linda nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The motion brought a wave of nausea.

_Am I dying?_

_Oh God_

"Do you take confession?" she asked suddenly, swallowing another dribble of blood in the back of her throat.

Samael raised an eyebrow. "Confession?"

His gaze swept away, then returned. He quickly shook his head. "No. That is not something we do. It is a human creation. Well meaning, but unnecessary."

Linda scowled. "Typical... shared all of those shitty secrets... with Father Clancy... didn't mean a damned thing."

She didn't feel well.

At all.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"The light is a physical manifestation of love, Linda," Samael said above her.

"Mmm, that's nice," she murmured, resting against his chest.

"In that case, I displayed my love for you as a way to reassure you. Your eyes, your senses, interpret that energy as a warm, nurturing light. My Father, in his pure form, is made up of what you saw, only amplified beyond any human measure. His love is a force of creation."

Linda nodded slowly, with no interest in opening her eyes.

"What about... when you heal?"

Samael sighed.

"You are very intelligent, Linda. That light is not quite the same. It is the love from my being, yes. But it is twined with the love of my Father. I am the conduit for his energies when I heal. It is an act of immense love _and_ creation."

Linda frowned.

The words he spoke were slippery in the dark where she was growing comfortable, but something was nudging her to hold onto what he had said about his Father.

This was important.

She clawed her way up from the dark and blinked up at his troubled face.

"When you healed Chloe... you weren't angry at your father."

The troubled expression grew.

Wow. He understood.

Why was therapy so much _easier_ with Samael?

"More angry you are... less you can heal. Now you hate him... no healing."

Samael nodded. "Yes, Linda. I see that now."

"That'll be five hundred bucks," she whispered, and laughed.

A soft spray of blood sprinkled her shirt.

_Crap._

"Linda."

She blinked, snapping back up from the dark.

"How do I stop hating my father? I must forgive him, yes? How do I do that now?"

"Takes time," she whispered. She swallowed another thin stream. "Need to see... from his angle."

"He explained his 'angle'. I am still angry."

She nodded listlessly.

"Then..."

"Then?"

"Then..."

"Sister, you are not welcome now. Leave."

Shaking followed, snapping her from the dark again.

Linda blinked up at him, and her eyes shifted to the woman standing just beyond the bed.

The young woman's haircut was _awful._

The woman frowned.

_Really? I thought it made me approachable._

"Then, Linda?"

The woman drew closer, and Linda found herself caught in those dark eyes.

Swirling galaxies of stars...

"SISTER! You WILL STAND BACK! You will give me this TIME!"

The contact was broken, and the young woman in black turned to look at Samael.

"We don't have time, brother."

Samael ignored the woman, staring down at Linda intently. "Then, Linda! Tell me! What do I do!"

Linda stared up at his beautiful face and smiled.

"It's not about _him,_ Samael. It's about _you._"

The angel's eyes were lost.

"Me?"

"Chasing your father's love... forever. Holding onto pain he caused... forever."

Samael's eyes grew dark. "You are not speaking of me, human, you speak of Lu-"

"Same... hate. Same pain."

"No! Not the same! I was not exiled!"

"Brother, please listen!"

The face above her roared a sound of crystalline thunder across the room at the woman standing there.

Linda sagged against his arms.

She was tired.

But there was one more thing to say.

"Let your Father _go,_ Samael. Find what you want from him... from _everyone_... in yourself. Find it _for_ yourself. Find.. your own love and healing... for... _you._"

Textbook stuff. Damned easy to say, and so damned hard to do.

But she'd finally given him the message she'd been wanting to share all this time.

It felt like closure.

And maybe that was alright now?

Her eyes closed, and two voices chased her down into the dark.

"I do not understand, Linda. This fixes nothing." He sighed. "Sister... I apologize. You may take her now."

"I was trying to tell you, brother. I'm not here for _her._ I need you."

"She is not about to die?"

"Of course not. She has a bad concussion from the Third's work and your constant yelling, and a bloody nose from her snorting coughing fit before. Lean her forward and stuff something up her nose. If reality survives you can take her to a hospital. She'll be fine."

"Oh. I feel foolish. I... I have scared her again, making her think she was going to die."

"You're young brother. You didn't know. We have bigger issues."

"I cannot defeat the child, Azrael, my attack meant nothing to him."

"Sammy, we have to try. We've got no other choice."

As Linda passed out, rather peeved about everything now, the woman's voice grew sharp.

"The Third has our Father."


	41. The Effort of Maintaining Calm

_This is the second chapter I've posted this weekend. One yesterday with Samael and Linda, and this one today. Make sure you catch both!_

_This chapter happens concurrently with the last, taking place shortly after Chloe's last chapter. You'll get why I mention that, by the end._

_Keep feeling like I have to tell people that all will be well. Here goes again: All will be well. :)_

_Thanks for the comments so far. Hope you'll share your thoughts if you have a moment. I love reading them. Take care everyone!_

* * *

Chloe glared at the ceiling as the nurses fussed about her, setting her up with a drip, changing out her gown for a fresh robe, and making sure the cuffs on her wrists and ankles were secure.

She was really, really thrilled about that.

The private room with the lock on the door was also really, really perfect.

"I'm _fine,_" she said, once more, to the ceiling this time, because nobody was paying any attention to her. "I just have to find my daughter. She's twelve, she's got black hair, her name is Trixie. Look, somebody find Daniel Espanoza - he's my ex. He's a cop, probably checking out the cafeteria! He'll know where she is!"

Except... except he'd also forgotten who Trixie was.

Chloe winced and stared at the window on the left wall, past the shoulder of the nurse lifting the blanket over her.

How could he forget?

Had she imagined that?

Maybe she'd imagined all of it?

Lucifer saving her? The terrible birth? The child with burning eyes?

_Hi, mom._

Squeezing her eyes closed, Chloe tried very hard not to cry.

What was real?

Maybe she _was_ losing it?

A warm hand folded over her own.

"Chlo, hey..."

Warm lips pressed gently against her forehead.

"Dan!" she cried, opening her eyes and seeing him standing over her, his eyes soft with worry, his forehead blackened by a bruise. "Oh, thank god - Dan, I'm so glad to see you! Where's Trixie?!"

And there it was again. The flicker of confusion that made her want to scream.

She hadn't imagined it.

_Oh, God!_

"Dan," she moaned, and the tears rushed her then. She tried to lift her hand to wipe them away, but her wrist snapped against the cuff. "Dan, please, don't do this to me. Tell me you remember our daughter."

Dan grasped her hand tightly, his brow furrowed in pain, and glanced towards the doctor standing at the end of the bed.

"Are the cuffs really necessary?"

The man gave a sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid so. She was erratic and combative in the ER. The restraints are regular procedure and protect the patient, as much as the staff."

Chloe glared at the man through her tears.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!"

The man met her gaze with warm brown eyes.

"My apologies, Ms. Decker. Please know that we have your best interests at heart."

Scowling, she squeezed Dan's hand to pull his attention back.

"Dan. Something happened after I put Lucifer's ring on - something came up out of the ring. It talked to you and that's when your memories got screwed up."

Jesus, she wasn't helping herself!

"Chloe... do you hear what you're saying?"

"You brought her to the hospital, Dan! You said she was outside the room - where is she?! What if someone's taken her! She wasn't in the cafeteria was she? Oh my god... we have to find her, right now!"

She jerked on the cuffs, desperate to free herself and keep searching, but Dan pressed her back gently.

"Chloe. Please, baby. I don't know why you're saying these things but... we don't have a daughter. We never had kids. We couldn't."

He squeezed her hand gently as she looked at him, wide-eyed.

"It's why we broke up."

Rage replaced the desperate grief, and she jerked up from the bed to scream in his face.

"I broke up with you because you were a shitty husband, Dan! You were never there for us, and you never had my back! And we got DIVORCED because you were a CORRUPT COP! How DARE YOU NOT REMEMBER HER! HOW DARE YOU!"

Dan jerked back from her, pulling her hand from his. The hurt on his face was clear, as he glanced at the doctor and back.

Chloe winced. She shouldn't have said it like that. But God, she just needed him to remember!

"What about the angel?" she whispered. "Do you remember that? In the other room? When I was bleeding like crazy and gave birth? What about that?! That happened! I know it sounds crazy, but it happened!"

Dan didn't move. His gaze dropped and he shook his head.

"They think-"

"They think what?! It happened, Dan! He hit you on the head - I can see the bruise!"

He shook his head again, looking back at the doctor before glancing up at her.

Those eyes. She'd seen that look. He'd turned off from her completely.

She'd really hurt him.

"Dan, please, I'm sorry-"

"They think the guy broke into your room, from the window washing rig. They think he ran downstairs and attacked those people in the cafeteria. You probably ran off when I was down, and you stumbled over that mess, which is where the blood came from, and they think..."

Chloe's mouth fell open, and she looked between them both desperately. "They think, WHAT, Dan?! Because that's not what happened! I gave birth! You saw that!"

He looked at her, his mouth thin, his gaze cold. "They think that's what made you lose it, Chloe. Why you ran away, got lost in a park-"

"But the park's miles away, Dan - how'd I get there?!"

"And why you think we had a child. Why you're fixated on that. You probably saw the kid down there and it just... broke you."

Chloe's heart clenched.

"The kid... what kid? Was it Trixie, Dan? Oh my god, who was it?!"

"Jesus," Dan whispered, turning away.

"Mr. Espinoza," the doctor said, nodding towards her, "this could be a very temporary state. Let's give it some time. We'll keep her overnight and have an assessment done in the morning. We have an exceptional psychiatry department. They'll take very good care of her."

Dan nodded and looked as if he might leave - she snatched out to grab his arm.

"Dan, I'm not crazy, please don't leave me here. I'm not crazy! Who was the kid in the cafeteria? Was it a girl?"

Frowning he stared down at their hands.

"No, Chloe. It was a boy. Son of a family who came to visit a relative. They're all dead. I gotta go. I've gotta help find the asshole who did this."

"I shouldn't have said what I said, Dan," she whispered to him, tracking his gaze, wanting to make him see her again. "It was wrong, but I'm really freaking out and I need you to hear me."

But the shutters stayed put. Dan pulled away. "I'll come check on you in the morning."

Heart jumping in her chest, Chloe tried to grab for him again. "NO! Dan, don't do this! I'm not crazy! Please! I can help!"

"Thanks, doc. A friend wants to come in and see her, that okay?"

The doctor smiled. "As long as they come soon. We'll be giving her a mild sedative shortly, to help her relax. Best the visit be before then."

"WHAT?! I don't need to be drugged! Why are you drugging me?!"

Chloe winced inside. The yelling wasn't helping her case!

Taking a steadying breath, she tried for a calm, sane, measured tone.

"I'm not crazy," she said, her carefully measured voice cracking with the effort of maintaining calm, "Dan and Doctor whoever you are. I am not insane, I am just concerned, and-NO! DAN! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE!"

But he did, and the doctor followed shortly afterwards, not even bothering to look back.

"Oh my god..." she whispered, sagging back against the bed.

Her heart was still pounding.

This had really happened. She was really cuffed to a goddamn hospital bed, about to be sedated, because everyone thought she was nuts!

"Oh my god..."

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

For a split second, the smallest moments, the thought came to her to pray to Lucifer.

Because he would have heard her, and he would have come running.

And she started sobbing.

Because he was dead.

He was really dead.

The tears kept coming, she had no way to wipe her face. So she just let herself cry.

For Lucifer. For Trixie.

"Heeey..."

Through the blurred mess of her tears, Chloe tracked the blob of a person approaching.

Short. Dark hair. Bright t-shirt.

_Ella?_

"Oh my god, Chloe, I'm so sorry..."

She blinked furiously and managed to finally see.

Ella was smiling strangely at her, in a lavender t-shirt with a resigned-looking potato on it, not quite near enough to the bed for Chloe to take her hand.

She'd hoped for that contact. She _needed_ it.

"Ella, thank God," she said, with a rush of relief. "Please, help me - undo these cuffs."

She stretched her hand out, turning so the buckle was accessible.

But Ella only smiled more strangely, before twisting in place like she'd just remembered something.

"Oh hey! I... I brought these earlier," she said, pulling up a clump of carnations that looked a little mangled. Grimacing, she stared down at them. "Frank sat on them when we got called to the crime scene in the cafeteria, so..." Her dark eyes flicked up to Chloe again, and she looked distraught. "I'm really sorry... I kind of wish you were there to help out, because..."

Dropping her gaze, Ella began to cry.

"It's really bad. Like, the worst I've ever seen. It's really bad and you're here, and they said you..."

Quickly wiping at her eyes, she looked up and her gaze turned piercing. "What happened to you?"

"Ella," Chloe said, as calmly as she could. "I'm not crazy. It's a misunderstanding, and I need your help to get out of here. Please. Please undo these cuffs."

Her friend stared at her for a moment, then seemed to make a judgment call. Rushing forward with a nod, she grabbed for the nearest cuff.

_Oh, thank god!_

"I knew you weren't nuts, I mean, they said you were, but _I said_" she paused briefly to enact a conversation, "'Chloe is saner than all of us put together, don't you even', and _they said-_"

"Hurry, Ella, please," Chloe said, shaking her wrist to bring her attention back. "I've no idea where Trixie is, and everybody's acting really weird every time I mention her, and I don't understand why."

Ella frowned while she worked, caught up in trying to undo the buckle.

"That's weird. Is she in the hospital? Is she a patient?"

Chloe's heart sank, and she stared in disbelief at her friend.

"Ella, Trixie's my daughter. You've _met_ her. Dan brought her to the hospital yesterday, but now he doesn't remember her and I've got no idea where she's gone and- no don't stop! I need to get out of here!"

"Oh, god," her friend whispered, her eyes wide and spooked.

And she stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides.

"No, Ella, listen to me! Hey, no no no, LISTEN! You have to believe me! Please! I'm not crazy! She's real! Trixie's real!"

"Chloe... I'm... so sorry," Ella mumbled, and she seemed to collapse inside, as her eyes grew wet again. Raising the flowers awkwardly, she scanned the room for a place to put them. "These... I'll put these..."

"ELLA, I'M NOT CRAZY!" Chloe shouted, jerking at the restraints, desperate to reach her friend.

But it only seemed to scare her. Ella jumped back from the bed, her eyes growing even wider. Dropping the flowers to the chair across the room, she rushed to the door, just as two nurses walked in with a tray of medication.

"No! You keep that away from me! ELLA! PLEASE!"

With a last despairing look back, Ella ran from the room.

It was all very efficiently done, as Chloe thrashed and tried to pull herself away. She couldn't, of course, and the male nurse simply held her arm steady as the other nurse injected whatever it was through the IV.

"It's a small dose of midazolam, sweetie. Just to help you relax. Try to get some rest."

Chloe bit back the stream of obscenities she wanted to scream at the woman, because this was a nurse, and nurses deserved respect. She just glared instead, and kept glaring as they left the room.

"Shit!" she cried, staring at the IV where they'd injected the dose, at the door, the window, and the mangled bouquet of flowers on the chair. "Shit."

What was the plan now?! She couldn't lie around here while her daughter was missing!

"Monkeeey," she moaned, flopping her head back into the pillow. "Where are you, baby?"

She blinked, slowly, then released a loud yawn.

There it was. She could feel it now. Her body getting heavy on the bed.

"Crraaap," she mumbled, blowing a small raspberry at nothing.

Her mouth twisted, and she started to cry. "Baby, where are you? I need you, monkey, and nobody knows who you are... Lucifer's gone... you're all I've got. Please, Trixie... please... where are you?"

Her tears slowly stopped.

Her eyes drifted closed.

And a small hand threaded through her own.

"Here, momma."

At first, she thought she was dreaming, and as she opened her eyes - and that was _so_ hard - her heart sank as she realized that she'd imagined it.

But... she _hadn't_ \- her baby was right there at the side of the bed, dressed in a pink shirt and jeans, with adorable buns at the top of her head, smiling.

"Trrrixieee..." she moaned, reaching for her daughter. "Oh god... myyy baby!"

Some part of her knew she wouldn't be able to hold her daughter, because the cuffs were going to stop her short.

But they slipped from her wrists and ankles as she turned to gather her daughter into her arms.

Her child's small arms looped around her and squeezed her tight, and Chloe cried against her daughter's soft hair, kissing Trixie's forehead and knowing at that moment that everything was going to be alright.

"My monkey," she sighed.

When she opened her eyes, she was back home.

She wasn't wearing a hospital gown anymore either.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she pulled her daughter closer, and scanned the space, her eyes wide.

Was this a trick? Like before, with Lucifer and that horrible birth?

"No momma," Trixie whispered against her chest. "You're home."

Chloe frowned at the space.

Sure, it looked like home, but there was something different about it.

The same furniture, but... the colors weren't as bright. Things were much more ordered and clean.

And... her photos? What happened to her photos?

Trixie wasn't in _any_ of them.

Horrified, she looked back at her baby.

_Oh god, what if I am mad?_

Trixie gave her a sad smile, and shook her head. "You're not, mom."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Chloe leaned back from the daughter who'd apparently just read her mind.

_Don't be afraid, momma._

Trixie took her hand, opened her palm, and dropped something into it.

Lucifer's ring?

"Everything is going to be okay."

"Trixie..." Chloe whispered, staring at her child. "What's happening?"

Her daughter's face crumpled and Trixie began to cry.

"I'm... I'm saying goodbye."

"What?!" Chloe cradled her daughter's face. "Why would you say that?"

Trixie took in a hitched breath, tilted her head and looked at Chloe in a way that unlocked something hidden.

And suddenly, Chloe _remembered._

_Everything._

Every moment from that time her daughter had gone to Hell and brought Lucifer back.

And the conversations they'd had when he'd returned.

Because Trixie...

"Oh my G-"

"Yes," her daughter said softly. Then she looked down at the ring in Chloe's hand. "You'll remember him. Lucifer deserves that much." She broke into tears again, and would not look up. "I never meant for that to happen."

"Jesus," Chloe whispered.

"Yes, that too. Momma," she looked up earnestly, and clasped her small hands over Chloe's. "Thank you for being my mom. It has been a beautifully human existence. Much kinder than the last." The tears came again, and she wiped them away with small fingers. "I love you, momma. I... I have to go."

"No," Chloe mumbled, still in shock, still obliterated by this revelation, but still very much needing her daughter to be _home,_ to be _here_ and _okay_. She squeezed her child's hands - God's hands?! - and pulled her into a hug. "No, no. You're not leaving. You're my daughter, Trixie, you're my daughter!"

"Yes," her baby girl sighed against her. "But you won't remember that. And that will be okay. The Third gave me the idea, playing with dad's memory. It's better this way."

Trixie tried to pull away, but Chloe held her tight. "Don't, don't you dare do this to me. You're my _heart,_ Trixie. You're my reason to live... you can't... Don't take that away from me. God, no, please..."

And she started sobbing, as Trixie pulled away anyway, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"You have been the most beautiful mother to me, Chloe Jane Decker. Incredibly strong and kind. I will always be thankful for this. Another child will come to you soon. They will be simply human, and simply beautiful, just like you. Be at blessed peace."

And her daughter kissed her.

Trixie pulled away, as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

_There._

It was done. It had hurt, but it was done.

Chloe's eyes had closed, and her face had grown soft and peaceful.

And Trixie had to go, because she'd been here too long already. She was risking everything.

But... she didn't really want to go.

"No..."

God blinked while still the young child, and found himself as her, staring into his human mother's blue eyes as they opened, shimmering with tears.

"No," Chloe said again, and she reached out to pull God as Trixie into an enormous hug. "I won't let you go."

"Wait," Trixie said as God, and tried to pull away again. "That should have worked?"

Chloe just held her tighter. "You can't make me forget!"

Incredibly, omnisciently confused, Trixie patted her human mother on the head. "Be at blessed peace, mom. Peace."

"No!" Chloe cried, and she pressed her hand against the back of Trixie's head and pressed her closer. "I will not let you go. You are my monkey and you are everything to me! I WON'T LET YOU GO!"

"What's happening?!" Trixie squeaked, squashed by her mother. It felt lovely, but that wasn't the point! It was dangerous for her to be here!

Her small hand flailed out and smacked Chloe on the forehead. "Be at peace, already! PEACE! FORGET!"

Chloe pulled back and stared at her with narrowed, red-lined eyes, and Trixie's insides twisted. She knew that look.

"You're _grounded_, monkey!" Chloe snapped through desperate sobs. "I don't care who you are! You can't leave, because you're grounded!"

"What's the Hell's HAPPENING?!" Trixie shrieked.

Someone laughed.

God's human skin grew cold.

_Oh, no_

_Oh, yes_ the thought purred in her mind.

"I found you, Second."

A young man's hand touched her temple.

"And I think it's time for _you_ to forget."


	42. The World's Breaking

The world began to break.

Time began to warp in random pockets, slowing and speeding in small degrees at first, almost unnoticeable, then growing in intensity. Cars paused, then sped out of control, crashing into buildings, other cars, people. Birds seemed to freeze in mid-air, their wings moving ever so slowly, above madly rushing crowds. Collisions happened in excruciating slow-motion - people watched as drivers and passengers and pedestrians were crushed and broken in stages that stopped and started.

The screaming began.

Anything terrestrial with sentience of any kind - people, animals, trees - one of God's favorite inventions which everyone seemed to underestimate - began to forget what they were doing and why they were doing it.

They began to forget who they were.

Or how they were.

And finally, they began to forget _what_ they were.

Margaret, a elementary teacher in a small town along the coast of north Cornwall, stopped in the middle of her class, finger raised in order to make a very important point.

She forgot the point.

She forgot her name.

She forgot how to stand.

Margaret fell to the floor and made strange, guttural noises as her body jerked and rolled, no longer familiar with the standard expression of the human form.

When figures circled her, with large heads, huge staring orbs, and small colorful limbs with thin protuberances stretched out in aid, she began to scream.

One of the forms echoed her scream, as others moaned and cried and laughed, and they stepped on her face and throat until she stopped screaming.

And stopped being.

Five hundred people, enjoying a concert in Madrid, ceased to exist in the middle of the third song, as the band, drunk on their first stadium gig, played with increasing intensity - an intensity that surpassed the bounds of regular time and began to eclipse the speed of sound. The percussive explosiveness of their motions blew out the lungs of everyone in the first four rows of seats, and more audience members died gasping, surrounded by air.

The band did not notice.

A surfer, enjoying the best wave of his life on the Gold Coast of Australia, fell off of his board, into the water.

He sank, staring at his new, blurry world, as a shark swam past his writhing form and beached itself vigorously on the soft sand.

They both tried to breathe what they couldn't, and died in confusion and disappointment.

The time warping began to cause earthquakes as accelerated sections of earth slammed into crawling patches, and a fifty square mile patch of African savanna liquefied completely - swallowing villages, animals, and tourists in the space of fifteen minutes.

Several airplanes crashed when the pilots and half the cabin crew started shrieking at everything in sight - the controls, their hands, their skin, and the other creatures making terrible sounds around them. Another four were rescued with frantic calls to control towers by flight attendants, pilots in training, and in one, by a young man named Brett, who used to fly an old crop duster on his dad's farm.

Air patterns, accelerated and slowed drastically, shifted weather in extremes all over the globe. Cannonball-sized hail fell on a four-block section of a suburb of Topeka, destroying every house within, as a tornado touched down in the middle of New York City, devouring a single sky scraper on 55th Street between 6th and 7th Avenue before the skies cleared, then thickened, then dumped two feet of snow, which quickly froze solid.

The blending began.

A stripper in a club in Chicago, writhing before the early crowd, felt herself as the three men enjoying the view. They in turn felt themselves as the performer, exposing themselves suggestively for their own entertainment. They worried about their child at home, their wives at work and the divorce that was going through that Friday, and wondered if their next paycheck would be the one that would finally pull them out of this shithole, away from their own desperate gazes, and onto better things. Their thoughts began to echo, endlessly, between their blended souls, and they jerked and danced and screamed until one of the men's heart went into arrest, and they all collapsed dead.

Azrael was groaning, her being stretched thin, ferrying souls to Heaven or Hell from growing clusters all over the Earth as she flew with her brother to intercept the Third.

The signature of the god was evasive, dragging them back and forth as she struggled to focus on the task while drowning under so many others.

The disruption was tearing her apart. The unnaturalness of the world's breaking was breaking her.

The true horror were the souls that simply dissipated as she enveloped them - their substance loosening to such a degree that they fell apart with no memory, no name, no future or past. They became nothing at all. She was left holding onto her own memory of them, burning it into her being as a desperate attempt to hold onto something of what they were.

**Brother** she moaned in a sound of shattering discordant tones, **I can no longer fly**

Samael drew her in, and his broad wings stretched out against the air as they soared above an empty plain, where the Third clearly was not. **Where now, sister?**

**Back,** she whispered. **Back to the city. He is playing with us.**

He twisted effortlessly and they sped back the way they had come. She let herself go, stretching herself out further, enveloping the Earth as it shed so many souls from its back, and the smallest part of her stayed corporeal with her brother, waiting to pass on the final place she knew the Third would be.

When she finally had it, it made terrible sense.

He wasn't teasing them away any more, which meant he was finally ready for them.

Which meant everything she was a part of was about to end.

Whispering the location to Samael with tears in her eyes, she studied his face for one single startling moment, burning his beautiful essence into herself for what she felt sure would be the last time.

Then she fell through his arms and shifted into her true form, that no one but her Creator could see.

And ferried the ever-growing dead.

* * *

_Hello! I realize that a little apocalypse isn't the most welcome thing in the middle of a pandemic. But it's happening in the story and I'm not sure how I can downplay it._

_I have just finished writing the big confrontation, and a wonderful moment just after. I can't wait to get to it and share it._

_Please note, that things are about to get pretty dire. But, please also know that this is NOT a tragedy. Having gotten to the other side myself, I'm smiling :)_

_Not completely finished though. Lots of little wrap up chapters and moments, like I usually do. But I should be done this weekend. Thank God. I hope to post much more frequently now._

_Thanks for reading, I hope you'll see it through, and if you have a moment, please leave a comment. Take care, everyone._


	43. Brother and Sister

_Hi everyone. I'm posting two chapters tonight, and it's partly because this chapter is a bit of a shock at the end. Nobody dies._

_Hopefully you'll move quickly onto the next when you get to it. Hopefully you'll continue with the story. There is light ahead._

* * *

With small, uncertain steps, Trixie walked through the halls of her school, past broken lockers - the contents hanging haphazardly and spilled out on the floor - past broken doors, and shining puddles of broken glass.

Her small body was shaking.

"Hello?" she called, one arm cross over her chest to grasp the other tight, her hand curled into a fist by her side.

Her voice flattened in the space.

She scanned each room she passed with a wide-eyed gaze.

Every single one was empty, littered with overturned chairs, shattered shelves and broken desks.

The entire school was broken.

How had this happened?

Where was everybody?

She stopped to listen for a moment, hoping to catch the sound of kids somewhere, or a teacher's voice going off in a monotone that made her want to sleep.

But the only thing she could hear was her own breathing.

A little fast.

A little scared.

She didn't want to be scared.

Her mom wouldn't be scared. Her mom would walk through here with her gun up and yell, and anybody who was up to something would stop and come out, their arms raised.

"Yeah," she whispered, sounding small.

She wished her mom was here.

Trixie frowned.

Wasn't she about to tell her mom something? Something important?

She couldn't really remember what that was anymore.

It couldn't have been too important.

She reached for the strap of her backpack, so she could get her phone out and call her mom.

But, she didn't have a bag.

Frowning, Trixie stared at her hand, as if by waiting and wanting, the phone might appear. It didn't, of course.

Because you couldn't just make things happen by thinking about them!

And now she couldn't call anybody!

Unless...

Clasping her hands in front of her face, she sent a little prayer.

_Lucifer, I'm stuck in school! Can you come get me out?_

She waited.

And waited.

Twisting her mouth thoughtfully, she closed her eyes tight and added to it.

_Lucifer, I know you said never to do this again because the last time you flew me out of school mom was really upset and wouldn't do something important with you that you really liked, and I think I know what that was even though you wouldn't tell me, because I'm not five anymore you know, and, um, anyway, I need a lift out of school because everything's broken and I can't find anybody. Please help?_

And she waited again.

And frowning, waiting longer still.

But he didn't come.

Punching her fists to her hips, Trixie glared down the littered hallway.

Fine. She didn't need him. She was going to find a phone, and she'd call her mom, and maybe she'd do a little detective work while she was waiting.

A flashlight, and a gun was all she'd need.

Scrunching her eyebrows, she realized she had no idea where to get either of those things.

But!

Trixie grinned.

She had the next best thing!

Moving quickly, she started down a side corridor, passing the stairwell and a trophy case, and finally reached the bank of lockers for 6th graders. They were just as broken as everything else, and she gasped as she saw her own stuff littering the floor - her pictures and books, the makeup she'd been trying out and hiding from her mom, the goofy stuffed unicorn with the plush rainbow fart her friend gave her, and the valentines day card from Mark covered in turtle stickers.

Gathering it all up again, she shoved it back in, caught the baseball that fell out and put it back, before reconsidering and pulling it out.

Then smiling, she stood on the shelf inside, and another adjacent, climbed on top of the lockers, and groped behind them.

With a shout of victory in Lilim, she plucked the Hell blade from its duct tape sheath behind her locker, and hopped back down again.

Adopting a stance of readiness, she clutched the baseball, twirled the blade into her palm, and stalked back down the hall.

Her eventual goal? The teacher's offices.

_They'd_ have phones.

She'd certainly been in the principal's office enough to know that _it_ had a phone!

The burst of bravery she'd felt holding the blade began to fade the deeper she went, until finally she was crouching from shadow to shadow and turning the steel doorknob that led to the principal's office, her heart thundering in her chest.

The office was untouched - nothing broken at all.

But somebody else was sitting in the chair. They were turned away from her, but she didn't recognize that hair. A big mess of dark brown.

Held up by a pink butterfly clip?

"Who are _you?_" she asked, without really thinking.

She realized very quickly afterwards that if she _had_ been thinking, she would have just backed out of the door and run away.

The chair turned, slowly.

And a young man swung into view, grinning wickedly, his fingers steepled before his face.

His burning eyes left trails of black smoke.

"Hello, _Second._"

And he laughed.

"That was fun," he said, sinking back into the chair. "Do you know how many movies Lucifer watched where somebody did that? The whole chair reveal thing?"

Trixie shook her head slowly. Her grip closed tightly on the Hell blade, held just out of view.

"Are you a friend of Lucifer's?" she asked.

Because if he was, that was okay. Maybe he could help her get out of here?

He smirked, and spun on the chair a few times.

"I'm physically his son," he said, spinning away and back again. "Do you know how long I've been waiting here to do this? You took your time."

Trixie's mouth fell open.

"You're his _SON?!_ He never told me that!" She burst into the room, smiling. "If they get married, we'll be brother and sister!"

The young man stopped spinning and stared at her.

He looked confused.

"Oh my GOD, we could have so much fun!" she squealed. "You like movies? I like movies too! My favorite movie is Wonder Woman. She's so cool. She's like _pe-chaw! Pe-ching!_"

Trixie danced around, pretending to deflect bullets with non-existent arm guards, then she whipped the air with a non-existent lasso, and followed it up with a slice from the Hell blade.

The young man watched her, smirking, then he pointed at the weapon.

"Hey, can I see that?"

Smiling, she walked up to him, and presented the blade so he could see it.

A brother! She'd always wanted a brother! This was awesome! They'd be able to play baseball together!

She needed to practice her pitching, and honestly, her mom was crap with a bat.

"Do you like baseball?" she asked, tossing up the ball she was still clutching, as the man took the blade from her hand.

"No, it's boring," he said bluntly, and snatching her wrist, he slapped her hand on the desk, and stabbed the blade down through the meat of her palm.

For one moment, Trixie stared at her bleeding hand, impaled and fixed to the desk, her eyes growing ever wider, her mouth stretching open.

Then the pain hit, and Trixie _screamed._


	44. The Blessed Soul

**_NOTE: This is the second chapter I've posted tonight - be sure to read the first (chapter 43 - Brother and Sister)._**

_Okay! Hopefully you're still with me :) I think this weekend I'll finish this whole thing. Can't wait. I've been enjoying the moments far ahead of this one._

_If you have the time and the inclination, I hope you'll leave a comment. Thanks for reading, and take care, everyone. Next updates will be this weekend._

* * *

Chloe sat in a chair in the front row of the auditorium, frozen in place.

She was not alone. The entire school was here, unblinking, unbreathing. Disconnected from the world's normal flow of reality.

Timelocked.

Until a little girl's scream echoed through the halls, filtered through the auditorium and washed over her in waves.

The sound slipped through the distortion of time.

A daughter's pain was heard by a frozen mother.

And the blessed soul awoke.

Swelling brightly in the space, the soul pushed back against the distortion, shattering the lock, and freeing its human form from the Third's hold.

Sucking in a loud breath, Chloe jerked back against the seat.

She blinked furiously, horribly disoriented.

But... she'd heard a scream!

She stood to her feet in an instant, and finally absorbed where she was, and the strangeness of the space around her.

This... this was Trixie's school?

She frowned, staring around the crowded auditorium.

And everyone was here?

But...

...nobody was moving?

Her skin crawled. Because they weren't just unmoving. They weren't... _breathing._

"Oh my god," she whispered, dropping down to the child next to her, pressing her fingers against his throat.

But she couldn't quite reach him. Something was in the way. Some barrier that made her fingers numb.

Another scream tore through the hall, faint and wavering.

_Oh god!_

That was her child!

"TRIXIE!" Chloe cried. Ignoring the stillness around her, she ran up the middle aisle and slammed into the doors, throwing them open. "I'm COMING!"

The screaming faded to faint cries of pain.

"No!" she yelled, her body sparking in horror. Adrenaline pulsed through her, pounding her heart against her ribcage, fueling her frenetic energy - her muscles seemed to leap under her skin as she sprinting down through the hall.

Her baby was close, she could feel it!

She turned the corner, had one glimpse of a tall dark figure pulling her crying daughter by the hand, before her world was filled with white.

Something held her tight - there was a rush of air and swift movement as her stomach lurched, and then a sudden stillness that came with scathing sunshine.

She looked up.

Into Lucifer's worried face, flanked by folding wings, luminous in the sunlight.

_No, not Lucifer_

Her gut twisted.

_Samael_

He lowered her gently to the ground. Stepping onto red dirt, she stared about herself in utter confusion.

They were in the middle of the baseball field, at the back of the school. Smoke rose in massive dark clouds to the east. Sirens were sounding in all directions.

_What the Hell?_

"Stay here. Be safe."

Samael's unaccented voice pulled her back, and she caught him turning, his wings spreading wide.

"No," she said, grabbing onto his arm before he could leave. "Don't you dare do this to me again! You take me back, right now! My daughter needs me! And, yes, I know she's not just my daughter, but I don't care! She's hurt! I have to help!"

With a look of sorrowful regret, Samael turned back to face her.

Every part of the landscape of his features made her heart ache.

_He's not Lucifer... but..._

"I cannot take you back. He will kill you."

"Who?! That guy in the hall?! I can handle him! Take me back!"

Samael straightened, the regret sliding to pity. "That is the child you birthed with Lucifer - a being infinitely more powerful than I. You cannot 'handle him'."

Chloe stiffened.

Her child? But he was an adult! He was...

How the hell was that possible?! How was any of this possible?!

She wanted to ask how, she wanted to understand everything, but when she looked up at Samael again, his eyes were filled with a terrible fear.

It stopped every thought in her mind.

"I cannot defeat him," he said in a low, quiet voice. "But I... I can be a distraction. I can give my Father time to act, to save those in this reality that he can. I have not had much time here, but I wish for you all to live."

His gaze grew soft.

"I wish for _you_ to live, so you must stay here."

Chloe's heart lurched, and she reached out to grasp Samael's hand.

"No... you don't have to sacrifice yourself... that's not..." Her eyes blurred with sudden tears. "What about... the others? Michael? Amenadiel? Remiel?! Aren't there other angels that can help? Why are you doing this on your own?!"

Samael stared down at their joined hands.

His warm thumb stroked hers gently as he spoke.

"Michael cannot leave Hell. Remiel is dead. Azrael ferries the growing dead. My other siblings only know the one before me. I have neither their love or trust. I am here, and they are not."

Chloe's mouth fell open.

_Remiel is dead?!_

He looked up at her again. Resolute.

"This is my task."

Chloe shook her head sharply. "No - you're not doing this alone!"

Squeezing her eyes closed, she began to pray.

_Amenadiel! Michael! We need your help! God's in trouble! Please come!_

"What is human love like?"

Chloe's eyes snapped open, her thoughts swiftly obliterated again.

Samael held her hand still, his skin so soft against her own. His eyes held a yearning that made her heart ache.

"I..." she started, and then stopped, unsure what she could possibly say that could express what Samael needed to hear.

Frowning, he shook his head, his eyes darkening, and he released her hand.

"I am wasting time. Stay here, be-"

Chloe let her instincts lead her. Let her love for Lucifer guide her, and she stepped forward, gently curling her hand over the back of Samael's neck.

And she kissed him.

He froze as he did before, his eyes searching hers as she looked up at him unflinchingly, with love.

Then those beautiful eyes closed, and he held her, returning the kiss gently, tentatively, as the smallest tear spilled down his cheek.

And in the next breath, he was gone.

Chloe stood, frozen where she had been, her hand looped over nothing, her lips raised to the air.

The hand that had held his was curled against her chest, empty now.

Closing her eyes, she let her own tears fall free, and lowered her arm by her side.

Then she steeled herself for what she knew she had to do.

She had to go back.

Time warped around her as she ran, clawing at her to slow her down, shoving violently at her to speed up.

But it all slid over her and away, as she ran with her heart and blessed soul focused on only one thing.

Saving the ones she loved.


	45. With A Human Heart

Trixie moaned, squeezing her eyes closed, as the awful man pulled her along by her wounded hand, squeezing it tight.

"Let me goAAH!" She screamed again as he jerked her forward, almost pulling her off her feet. Gasping, groping desperately at the hand clutched around her own, dripping with her blood, she started crying again as she stumbled to keep up.

"You could heal that in an instant, if you simply remembered who you really are." He smirked down at her. "I find that really funny."

The tears stole her vision, but those red eyes burned into her own, and she glared back, hating him.

It was bad to feel that way, she knew that, but he'd been so awful!

"I HATE YOU!" she screamed, then scrabbled at her hand again with a cry as he only squeezed it tighter.

Stopping, he leaned into her, his red eyes blazing.

"I HATE YOU, TOO!" he screamed back. "WANT TO KNOW WHY?!"

Scared, her nerves sparking wildly, Trixie suddenly remembered Aunty Maze's words.

_Strike when they're angry, Trix. They're off balance then. Easier to disembowel._

She wasn't so sure about the disemboweling thing, but rage closed her own fist tight.

And she punched him as hard and as fast as she could, in the nuts.

The man's burning eyes went wide.

His mouth fell open.

And he _shrieked._

Collapsing slowly to the ground, he mewled words she barely caught as she wrenched her arm free.

"...I... am wounded... I am... destroyed... oh help..."

Trixie ran, clutching her wounded hand to her chest.

She couldn't think at first, she just ran, her breaths strangled sobs.

Her hand hurt so much, but she didn't want to look at it, she didn't want to see how awful it was!

Trying to stop her own tears, trying not to make a sound, she slowed and tried to work out what to do.

The phones were in the offices - she couldn't go back there! And he'd just run after her if she ran outside!

She needed a phone, and she need to hide, and there was only one place she knew she could find one.

Behind the stage, in the dressing room, on the wall. She remembered that from that stupid play they made her do, the one with the wise men, the baby, and the cows, and stuff.

They made her play a _donkey,_ and she was _still_ angry about it. She'd found that phone after looking in the mirror with her stupid donkey ears on and the goofy makeup they made her wear, and seriously considered calling her mom in the audience and asking her to pretend there was a terrible detective emergency and pull her out of there so she wouldn't have to go on the stage.

But she didn't. And she went out there.

And she 'eee-awwwed', loudly, like a complete _dummy._

The memory gave her a boost of angry energy - quickening her pace, she made it to the side door into the auditorium, grabbed the door handle with a blood-spattered hand...

...and was suddenly moving so fast!

Up, up into the air!

"LUCIFER!" she squealed, the biggest grin spreading on her face, as they sped up towards the clouds.

And abruptly stopped.

"LUCIFER! YOU SAVED ME!" she cried, and she grabbed him around the neck as his wings beat the darkening air, and she held on so tight.

Trixie started bawling again. She felt really embarrassed and relieved, and a little shocked.

Because...

She remembered now...

The last time she'd seen him... hadn't he been a ghost?!

Trixie pulled away from him, her eyes wide.

He wasn't a ghost now... but the look he was giving her wasn't a good one.

And... why was he wearing this weird outfit?

"Father," Lucifer said, in a low, almost angry voice, "why are you calling me 'Lucifer'?"

Trixie felt suddenly very scared, because he didn't sound right at _all._

"Why are you calling me 'Father'?" she said, in the smallest voice, almost drowned out by growing winds. "I can't be your dad - I'm only twelve!"

Lucifer's eyes began to blaze, and his brows drew down hard.

Around them the skies grew darker still - the clouds thickening and turning a terrible blackish-green. The wind was howling against her ears.

And it was so cold!

"What are you doing?" Lucifer yelled at her, his eyes blazing gold. "I'm trying to return to Heaven, but your form is stopping me? What is the advantage of this plan?!"

Why was he so angry at her?!

"I don't know what's going on!" Trixie cried, her eyes filling with tears again. "Why are you so weird? Why is your son so MEAN?! He hurt me!" She lifted her arm, her wounded hand curled and useless, and wiped her sleeve against her eyes as freezing rain sliced against her skin. "Take me home! I WANT TO GO HOME!"

Lucifer grasped her arm, his eyes wide, as something caught her eye - a figure rising behind him, black t-shirt flapping in the growing storm, eyes just as bright as Lucifer's but so terribly _red._

Trixie screamed, squirming away in Lucifer's arms from the man as he stopped level with them both, looking at the thunderstorm whipping up around them all.

And he smiled.

"I like this! These are cool! I've forgotten what you call them, though? Wait - storms, right?" He grinned, nodding at Trixie. "Very powerful - great invention!"

Lucifer shielded her, helping her climb onto his back, between his beating wings, as the wind howled around them, and the rain turned to cutting ice.

**What have you done to Father!**

The incredible sound Lucifer made tore through the growing thunderstorm, and buffeted the man standing in front of them, dark hair plastered to his face.

Trixie blinked wide-eyed at the back of Lucifer's head. He'd never made that noise before!

But... she understood what he'd said?

"Made him forget!" Lucifer's son shouted back, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Hey, are you still Lucifer?!"

**Undo what you have done!**

"Answer my question and I'll think about it!" the man roared back, as a lightning bolt split the world behind him.

Trixie screamed, her vision obliterated, and almost fell. Lucifer's strong hands grasped her tightly until she could fold her arms over him again.

"Please, please take me home," she sobbed at him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

**I am not Lucifer. Lucifer was destroyed. I was created in his place. Now undo what you have done!**

The storm grew wilder. Screaming in terror, Trixie squeezed in tighter, clamping her wounded hand down over the angel's chest.

And it hit her, what had been said.

Lucifer was _destroyed?_

"Well, that's SHIT!" the man yelled, and he sounded even more angry that before. "I liked him! He was fun!"

**UNDO WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!** the angel roared, in a voice that seemed the still the whole world.

Trixie shivered and tried desperately to hold on. But her limbs were getting so cold they were almost numb. And it was getting hard to breathe!

"Momma," she whispered, squeezing her eyes closed.

"No. Not yet. I want him to feel things with that human heart he's wearing. And I think I'll take the girl he's pretending to be back now. I'm sure you understand."

"I... I do not," the angel whispered, something only Trixie could hear.

"You do now."

The angel's hands went from supporting her to tugging at her. Frantic, Trixie clawed at his robe, then his wing, pulling a single feather free as he pulled her relentlessly away.

"NO! STOP!" she screamed, as she was handed to the young man who wrapped his arms tightly over her chest. "NO! LUCIFER, NO!"

The young man looked down at her, his hair whipping wildly around his head, and smirked.

"He's not Lucifer, stupid. He's just a bad copy. Do you know what we do with bad copies, Second?"

Trixie looked away from him to the angel who wasn't Lucifer, who was drifting back to where he had been, his hands raised still, his face dark with despair.

"I am sorry, Father, I-"

"We destroy them," the man whispered in her ear, above the storm.

"No! No, DON'T HURT HIM!" she screamed, clawing at the man. "DON'T!"

There was a horrible cry above the storm - a scream of such anguish that she sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes closed tight. Then a tremendous wave of heat buffeted her face, and that snapped her eyes wide open again.

Trixie looked.

But the angel wasn't there anymore.

Feathers flew in the winds around her, a mass of white feathers, and... the bloodied, shredded limbs that had held them, spinning off into the dark clouds.

Below was a bright, awful light.

A fireball, falling.

Flailing.

Screaming.

"Seemed fair to give as good as I got. And Lucifer had a fall like that, thanks to you, so that seemed fair too. How's it feel to see it with your human eyes, Second? To feel it with a human heart?"

The man looked at her with disgust as she cried.

"I shared in Lucifer's fall, you know. I felt his horror, and pain, and hate. It leached into the void stone, like everything else did. And while I hated you utterly before the dawn of this universe, I think _his_ hate made it all so much stronger." His gaze fell to the blazing form below. "Guess that really does make him a father of sorts to me. I inherited his rage against you."

Scowling, he looked back up at her. "Remember that when I give you your memory back."

Shivering violently, hammered by hail and scathing winds, Trixie stared up into the man's face, watching his brows twisting down over his burning eyes, as he said things she didn't understand at all.

And she decided this was all a dream.

She didn't feel her wounded hand anymore, after all. Or her legs, or her arms, or her face, even.

So she decided none of it was real.

Making that decision, Trixie sank down deep inside of herself, turning off every light she could find in a little world she made up on the spot.

And passed out completely.


	46. Another Rush of Wings

_Happy Mother's Day to every mum out there! :)_

_Be sure to read the chapter before this one that I posted yesterday (With A Human Heart). And if you have the time, I hope you'll comment. Thanks for reading._

_This chapter is going to bring up some questions, I think... o.O_

* * *

Chloe crept as quickly and quietly as she could through the maze of hallways, in her daughter's poorly-laid-out, goddamned overpriced school, trying desperately to remember where she'd been when she'd seen Trixie, and where the stupid auditorium was!

Seriously! Why wasn't there a map on every damn wall?

She wanted to call out for Trixie so badly, but Samael's words stopped her cold every time.

_a being infinitely more powerful than I_

Infinitely more powerful than an _angel?!_

Was she insane?!

What was she intending to do here?!

Scold a son she'd never truly known and tell him to go up to his room?!

... down to his room?

Chloe winced at herself. Pressing against the end of a wall, she peered around the corner.

Another silent, nameless hallway.

Frowning thoughtfully, she realized something.

She had technically _grounded_ God, so...

...maybe that would work on the Antichrist?!

Facepalming herself, she peeked through another broken door into another empty room.

And her steps slowed with another revelation.

Because that's what this was... wasn't it?

The Antichrist? The child of the Devil?

And this horrible thing had happened... because she'd had a lot of sex with Lucifer?

Right?

That opened a yawning hole of horribleness in her gut.

She shook her head to the thought and pushed it far away. Because that didn't help right now. It didn't fix anything. It didn't make anything right.

So it didn't deserve to take up space in her head.

Get Trixie and flee.

Worry about blame later.

Nodding sharply to herself, she stopped to listen again, hoping and dreading both to hear her daughter's pained voice.

The sounds Trixie had made before had been horrifying. There'd been so much pain in those cries.

"Baby," she whispered, unable to hold it back anymore. "I'm coming, I prom-"

The world exploded with a sound of shattering glass, screaming metal, and the dull thunder of falling masonry.

The building shook - pieces of ceiling tiles falling down the corridor before her, lockers and broken doors rocking in place.

A brilliant light burst from the end of the hall, then faded to the sound of roaring.

And the hallway was filled with a rush of steam that smelled faintly like chlorine.

Chloe stood frozen and breathless, her heart thundering in her chest.

Then something pushed her forward.

A bright light? Like... a fireball?

_I can be a distraction_

"Oh no," she mumbled, and tried to run, but her limbs felt like rubber.

It was like a dream where no matter how hard she tried to move forward, it made absolutely no difference at all.

"NO!" she roared, and she forced herself forward, finally gaining traction and speeding down the hall.

There was a sign at the end pointing to the sports complex and the swimming pool.

She pushed through the thick cloud of steam, through a shattered door and down a tiled hallway flanked by shower rooms, to a huge open space where she could barely see anything.

But water lapped at her feet.

The pool.

She looked up.

The cloud wasn't as thick there. Her heart lurched as she realized why - the glass ceiling had collapsed. The metal structures bent inwards and the ends looked as if they had _melted._

Beyond, the sky was almost black, flaring and rumbling.

She moved forward, and something crunched under her feet.

Glass - everywhere.

The wind howled above, drawing the fog from the room.

And above the sound of the wind and dripping water, she heard a faint gasp.

Jerking forward, she found the lip of the emptied pool and jumped in, landing awkwardly on a strip of metal that rolled, tossing her onto her side.

Glass caught her elbow, and arm, and hand, but she barely felt the pain of the cuts, because she saw _him._

The fog obscured detail, but a figure lay curled away from her.

It was dark, dark red.

"Oh no, no no," she mumbled, sliding and pushing forward, ignoring more cuts and everything that got in her way.

The cry she made when she reached him was strangled, falling to a desperate moan as she reached out to touch him, and froze.

Because he didn't have any skin there.

Almost all of it had all been burned away.

A sob tore from her as she realized what the blackened stubs poking out of his back were, that twitched as she neared.

The remains of his _wings._

"Oh, nnnnno," she cried, no longer able to hold in the tears, as she swept around him and saw his face.

Because she'd seen this face before.

But, never so raw.

Never so ruined.

His hands were blackened stumps. His legs didn't end in feet. They'd been burned away.

And red was leeching from him into the water lapping at them both.

She didn't understand at first, until she saw the spear of metal through his thigh.

The angel that looked like the one she'd loved, gasped again, as his eyes opened, flooded in red.

Not fire.

They fixed on her.

Agony.

He was _dying._ She could feel it. She wasn't sure how, but she could feel him retreating.

Samael moaned, a sound of indescribable pain, as his arm quavered and reached to her, the blackened stump curling, crumbling to ash.

Chloe sobbed, and swept forward, doing her best to gather him up into her arms.

It was easier this time, and she cradled his head, his ruined body, and held his gaze with defiant love as he started to fade.

And she decided something at that moment, as something bright and strong and blazing swelled up inside of her. Something beautiful and eternal and pure, that had been fashioned and placed with utmost care upon this Earth, and was more powerful than anyone knew.

She decided that he would live.

When the flutter of wings sounded about them, and the winds kicked up anew, and the black robed figure neared, Chloe looked up into gentle eyes that held the universe.

And said "No."

The angel of death retreated with another rush of wings.

Chloe looked back down at the broken angel in her arms, holding his gaze with tears in her eyes.

His gaze, so wounded, held hers in confusion.

_how_ he seemed to mouth, with lips bubbled and black.

She squeezed her eyes closed, releasing the tears, and shook her head.

"I don't know, and I don't care," she squeezed him gently, "Please, please heal. I need you."

His eyes closed, and rolled when he opened them again.

_can't_ his ruined lips mouthed. And then he tried to say something else she couldn't quite interpret.

"But... you healed me?"

Groaning, Samael tensed against her, his eyes rolling in pain again.

"Why can't you heal yourself?"

He mouthed the same thing as before, and finally, it clicked.

_anger_

"Anger?" she echoed, incredibly confused. "You can't heal yourself because you're angry?"

There was the smallest nod of his head against her hands in answer.

Chloe frowned and stared down into eyes that held so much defeat.

And she had an idea then, what he might be angry at.

Because she'd seen it in Lucifer.

"At your dad... or yourself?" she asked softly.

Samael's eyes drifted from her, and he seemed ready to answer, but he didn't. His mottled brow pinched inward.

Then his lips moved slowly.

_both_

His gaze fixed on her, and he strained to talk again.

All of this was hurting him terribly. She hadn't meant to prolong his pain.

_Should I have just let him go?_

Squeezing the bubbled raw skin over his eyes tight, he managed to speak.

"...need... love to heal... anger b-blocks..."

"Love," she finished.

Another faint nod, and a soft moan.

And he mouthed words that left her cold.

"What?" she whispered, not wanting to believe what he'd meant to say.

His blood-flooded eyes met hers, despairing.

"...let me...die..."

Chloe began to cry. She tried to hide it, covering her eyes, but it was pointless - the tears spilled anyway.

"I can't," she sobbed, feeling wretched. "I can't let you go."

"...failed..." he whispered, his own eyes growing wet. "...second... chance... and failed... again..."

Her brow furrowed.

"What?"

Drawing in a deep breath with a moan, he released it in a slow wheezing sigh, his gaze sliding from her to stare across the floor of the pool. A red stream traced the cracks in the sloped tile to the last few feet of water at the far end.

"...running... always running..."

He grew very still in her arms.

"...never stopped..."

"Samael," Chloe said, squeezing him again. "I don't understand. Running? Second chances?"

Dread gripped her.

"Samael?"

A hand touched her shoulder, gentle and warm.

"Let me take him, Chloe," a soft voice said behind her.

Chloe closed her eyes.

She hadn't even heard her this time.

"No."

"He wants to go. Let me take him while I'm still able to."

Heart aching, torn between compassion and need for Lucifer, and a savior, and anger at all of this, Chloe turned to face the angel of death.

And the light within her flared brightly, and spoke when she opened her mouth.

**I SAID NO!**

The force of the celestial speech washed over Azrael, scattering the black bob about her face and blowing her cloak open.

Azrael shifted away from it slightly, squinting, then turned back to her with a sigh.

"Okay. Just don't be too surprised if you die and I'm not there. It's been a bad day."

But with the smallest of smiles, she left.

Chloe blinked at the spot where she'd been, her eyes wide, her heart stuttering in her chest.

She'd...

How...

Then her face softened. All fear and doubt and shock fell from her, and she gazed down at the angel on her arms, hovering in the limbo between life and death.

The light within her spoke as she lowered, whispering in shimmering, crystalline tones of no human words.

Moments passed as she gazed down at Samael's still form.

And she smiled as he took in a shuddering breath.


	47. I Am the Greatest Angel

_NOTE: I've posted two chapters today - be sure the read the first (Another Rush of Wings)._

_Here's a wee break from the madness, that actually happens around the time Samael had first flown Chloe out of the school. She did something then, in an attempt to help, that relates to this chapter._

_I may just post the rest tonight, up to what I've written, honestly. Little tired of posting, waiting, then posting, and waiting. We'll see. I kinda wanna get everyone to the lovely moment that just happened. :) Let me know if you'd prefer I post a bunch now, or if you'd rather I stretch it out... (it's been soo stretched out though...)_

_Comments are always welcome, and as always, thanks for reading. :)_

* * *

In the depths of Hell, in a room fashioned from graceful stone arches, branching chaotically and weaved wickedly together, two figures on furs - one blonde and winged, lying flat, and one wingless and dark of hair sitting atop him - moved rhythmically.

They were purposefully naked.

And talking, as the motions quickened.

"This act that we are performing is amazing!" said the wide-eyed angel, who clearly had not experienced such a thing before.

"You're not bad," said the one above, her tone offering nothing worse or better than what was said.

"I like this very much."

"You're too chatty."

"You feel very good."

"Shut up."

"Do I also feel good? I mean, I must, I am the greatest angel!"

"You're new, it's okay."

"Oh."

"But... you are... _bigger_ than Lucifer was. And I like that." Her voice descended to a purr. "Very much."

"I am not bigger than Lucifer was. He stood a half hand taller than me."

"Not height, idiot. _Girth._"

"I am not fat!"

"Be quiet."

He was, for three seconds.

"Oh... Oh. Oh! OH! What! What is this that you are... OH! THIS IS GOOD!"

"Licking. Stop talking."

"It is very, very good! I- oh! Oh! OH, FATHER! Should... should I lick you too? Is that... oh OH-HOH MYYYY- **BLESSED HEAVEN ABOVE!**

The winged one's voice tore violently through the room, washing over the other, before the angel fell back limply against the furs.

Silence.

The demon poked the angel, who did not stir.

"Hey."

"I wasn't done."

The angel snored loudly.

And a very important prayer was missed.


	48. The Lightbringer

**_PLEASE NOTE: I have posted THREE chapters today, this is the third. Please read 'Another Rush of Wings' and 'I Am the Greatest Angel' BEFORE this one ;)_**

_I'm six chapters ahead and they're all rather long and in need of a wee bit of editing, so I won't be posting them all tonight. I am tired and need to sleep._

_But I thought it would be good to leave you with a little light. ;)_

_We join here with Samael. I hope you enjoy this. Let me know, if you can, what you think of this and the other chapters in a comment or review. They brighten my day so much. __I dedicate this chapter to my mum, Carmel, who I lost in 2008. She was an RN and a hospice nurse who brightened the lives and last moments of many._

_Happy Mother's Day, mum._

* * *

Samael opened his eyes slowly.

And found himself standing amidst the crystalline grasses, flower and trees of the meadow of his birth.

Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes again as the shimmering music of the meadow and the chorus of the Host swelled around him.

He smiled.

It was good to be back.

The pain was gone, severed as he was from the body that had suffered those horrible wounds.

It had been momentarily confusing, though, seeing Azrael rebuffed by a human.

But, clearly, his sister had returned to claim him, and now...

Samael frowned.

...now everything would come to an end.

For he had failed to stop the Third and his father no longer knew who He was.

With a heavy heart, Samael stared down at his hands.

Whole again.

And oddly solid.

Strange.

He was wearing his robes, as well. Had they not been completely burned away?

Why was he solid, wearing clothes that no longer existed?

Curious, he flexed his wings, and felt them brush the air at his back. They folded about him protectively, and he touched their crests in wonder.

Wings did not belong on the back of a dead angel.

Something rushed past him.

A shadow, fast.

Running?

The song of the Host came to an abrupt end.

Every blade of crystalline grass, every flower, and leaf on every tree, stilled.

Samael felt something. A presence at his back.

Hearing only the sound of his breathing, and the unwavering beat of his heart, he turned.

Nothing moved. No breeze stirred the space.

At the edge of the meadow, where his gaze had been tugged so many times before, was a figure.

Frozen, as everything else was.

Caught in the long stride of a desperate sprint.

Samael's heart began to hammer.

The hair and build were his own.

_Running_

Frowning, he walked slowly towards the figure, dressed in oddly human clothes, and as he neared, the profile was revealed.

His own.

Samael straightened, his eyes growing bright with golden fire.

_Lucifer._

Samael snapped his wings out wide. Flames engulfed him.

**Fallen one!** he bellowed, closing white-knuckled fists. **You do not BELONG here!**

The figure did nothing.

A phantom?

Samael torched it, devouring the figure with the fire of his being.

The flames receded, the land was unmarked. The figure, gone.

A breeze drifted through the space, sending everything about him singing again, melding and weaving with the renewed chorus of the Host.

It was, as always, beautiful. But... why had it stopped in the first place? Why had the phantom appeared?

The stone dias in the center of the meadow drew his gaze, and he stepped towards it, shaking his head.

It did not matter what it had been. It was gone. That was all-

A shadow passed him.

_Running_

Everything froze once more.

Blazing again, Samael turned towards the edge of the meadow, where the figure stood again.

**NO!**

Caught in the same pose - a desperate run.

With a growl, Samael gestured, and the figure disappeared in a tower of white-hot flame.

When it subsided, nothing remained.

The world restarted again.

The Host's voices filled the space as the land spoke in crystalline tones.

Samael looked about himself in alarm.

_Why is this happ-_

The blur of a running form passed him yet again.

**STOP THIS!** Samael roared, engulfing the figure in mid-flight.

It did nothing. The figure ran through his fires, froze at the edge of the meadow, and the world froze with it.

**STOP THIS NOW!**

Samael rushed the figure, his fist raised to strike.

His punch passed through air reanimated by a soft breeze, as Lucifer disappeared.

The land was filled with song once more.

"Stop this..." he whispered, his eyes fixed before him, knowing and dreading what was about to be again.

And come it did - the racing shadow, and as it neared, the remnants of thoughts that he now knew were never his own.

_I love you, Chloe! Chloe Jane Decker, I lo-_

Time stopped. The figure stood before him, frozen mid-stride.

And finally, Samael truly saw the expression on Lucifer's face.

Eyes rimmed white. Mouth spread open, tugged back in fear.

Such terror and despair.

It suddenly made sense.

"You were unmade at this moment," Samael whispered. "And you knew it was coming."

The figure dissipated.

The world moved again.

Samael remained where he was, waiting for Lucifer to return.

And the horror and sadness filled him as he stared into the face of the fallen angel.

"Why are you haunting this space?" he asked, with no expectation of a reply.

He looked about himself as the figure vanished and time moved forward again.

"Is this space real? Am I truly in Heaven?"

_Chloe Jane Decker, I lo-_

Samael turned to the frozen figment of Lucifer.

"Or are you haunting me? My mind perhaps? Perhaps I still live?"

He knew the answer immediately.

_Yes_

"Still lying in a pool, then. Damaged beyond repair. But for some reason, locked in my mind, playing you over and over."

He glowered at the figure, as it appeared, vanished, and came again.

Over and over.

"Why then, am I here, reviewing the end of a corruption? A fault? A mistake? What purpose does this serve?"

Lucifer appeared once more, and Samael felt his old rage surface again.

He leaned in close to the phantom, locking eyes with his predecessor, and spoke with a burning gaze. "You were wrong to rebel. You set yourself against God. Sin exists on this world because of _you._"

He tilted his head back imperiously. "You deserved this fate."

The gaze of horror, unchanged by his words, vanished.

And came again.

With an irritated sound, Samael walked away, stepping into the forest of shimmering trees.

And immediately found himself back at the stone dais.

He turned, and there at the edge of a frozen meadow, was Lucifer.

Scowling, he spread his wings and flew up, high enough above the meadow to see the Silver City.

Entranced by the view and smiling softly, he flew to it.

And found himself standing again before the stone platform.

**No!**

He spun in place, flew off in a different directions, multiple times, and was returned, time and time again.

To the meadow.

With a roar of rage, Samael set the entire meadow aflame, pushing beyond simple fire to the molten matter at the heart of a young star. Waves of destructive radiation pulsed from his being, sliding swiftly along the spectrum from yellows, to whites, to brilliant blues.

Then he drew everything back again.

Because nothing had been affected by his rage, at all.

The shadow ran past him once more.

"What is the point of this?" he whispered, spent.

Lucifer ran to the end of the meadow, moments before his unmaking.

_Chloe Jane Decker, I lo-_

Samael's brow soared, as he finally grasped something that felt important.

"Your last thoughts were not for yourself."

Slowly, he walked the path of the figure, towards the edge of the meadow, as Lucifer disappeared again.

"For one so selfish, that is... unexpected."

The shadow slipped through him on its way to the unmaking, and in that moment, Samael felt the flicker of an emotion that did not belong to him.

Fear.

Lucifer's fear?

Raw and despairing, it slipped swiftly through him again with the figure's next passage.

Then again.

There was... more here, layered with the fear. Perhaps if he prolonged the contact?

He attempted to match the phantom Lucifer's motions with his own, clumsily at first and with increasing distress, as Lucifer's terror grew deeply tangible.

Overwhelmingly so.

At one point he fell out of the stream of Lucifer's last moments, his heart hammering in his chest, his breaths desperate and heaving.

It was too much. Lucifer's destruction felt like his own.

_Too much._

But... there was something else there... little moments and flashes of a time with the woman, Chloe. There was something important in those moments, that he had not expected at all.

A genuine, selfless love from Lucifer, that had no place in a being so corrupt.

In one so wrong.

That love was reflected by the woman, and it was... intoxicating.

Samael's breaths calmed. He stood and watched Lucifer run again.

And he remembered the kiss he had shared with Chloe, before he had been hurt so terribly. If he was brave enough to return to Lucifer's stream, he could share in that again. Feel that simple human love again.

Smiling softly, he moved into the path of the one he hated once more.

He accepted Lucifer's terror, understood it, and delved deeper.

He tasted Chloe's lips again, felt the landscape of her skin underneath his hands. He felt their incredibly pure love, and he basked in that willingly, and then... he delved deeper.

And he found a current of yearning that surpassed the moments that Lucifer and Chloe had shared.

He found the heart of a being that had sought for love on Earth because he felt severed from every celestial source that had once nurtured who he had been. The Lightbringer he had been created to be. He found the heart of a being that had spent millennia drawing desires from a simple race and striving to bring what they wished, for their love. He found a being lost, seeking endless physical trysts, craving for more so desperately, and spiraling into a joyous and self-destructive hate of the ones who had pulled their love so far away. He found a being who had given so much and found so little, who had resigned himself to an eternity of smaller human pleasures, and the faint echo of celestial love gained from them - still so much better than the flat despair of Hell, still so much better than the disgust and disdain of Heaven.

He found a being who had simply asked 'why not?' and had suffered for the asking. Who had perhaps jumped too quickly into a fight, but could not pull back when his challenge was met.

A being of pride and terrible loneliness, who had finally, at the very end of his days, found a bright promise of the love he craved, and the very beginnings of a reconciliation.

But who had lost it once more.

With a sound of immeasurable pain, as Lucifer faded from around his form, Samael collapsed to his knees.

The sound continued, as he stared at the shimmering grasses, unseeing.

He had been so wrong.

He had been so terribly _wrong._

Lucifer did not deserve his hate.

_No..._

Lucifer deserved his _compassion._

His forgiveness.

The being he had so despised... deserved his _love._

The sound stopped. The shimmering music of the meadow rose with the soaring melody of the Host.

Samael sank back against his legs, staring at nothing at first.

Then he raised his hands, turning them slowly.

These had been Lucifer's hands.

Samael marveled at them, as something inside his heart began to sing.

Standing slowly, he looked over himself as if seeing himself for the first time - the outline of his form through his robe, his feet upon the crystalline ground, his grand wings arching overhead.

A soft smile spread on his face.

How he had hated this form. How he had felt cursed.

No longer.

When Lucifer's phantom came again, Samael gazed into those eyes so lost, despairing, so full of fear.

And tears welled in his own eyes as his skin began to glow.

The anger was gone.

"I had thought you a corruption, Lucifer. A terrible mistake. I was wrong. I am... honored... to be what you once were." Shining with the light from a young sun's heart, he reached towards the figure. "I share with you now, with this last moment of you, all the love of my being. The love of a celestial to replace... what you... had... lost..."

Samael's brilliant eyes widened.

"More... there is more..."

The light from his being doubled, filling the meadow in which he stood.

He could feel the connection again. His father's creative force weaving through his being again, as it had when he had been made!

"I have reclaimed it... I..."

With a soft sound, his entire body tensing, Samael spread his wings wide. His outline began to blur as light pulsed from him in every wavelength, through every spectrum.

For the connection was not simply to his father.

**There is more... All of them. Every soul... I am... I am all...**

The world of his mind was obliterated in light.


	49. To Hold On

Chloe blinked, lifting her gaze from Samael's ruined body. The storm thrashed wildly overhead - the lightning punctuating the space with blinding flashes of light, the thunder setting the building trembling.

Why did she feel so calm?

Something strange had just happened, hadn't it?

Azrael had come again... she'd talked to the angel, and...

And...

She didn't remember.

Her gaze fell to Samael again, and tears welled. His eyes were closed, his breathing was a thin, horrible rasp. She wanted so much to comfort him, to squeeze his hand... but it was a charred, crumbling stump. The mottled flesh of his skull was wet against her arm. There was no comfort to be had.

There was absolutely nothing she could do for him.

But... she couldn't let him go.

She had to hold on, so _he_ could hold on.

And she didn't even understand what that meant.

A horrible sound tore through the space, raw and high pitched.

Screaming?!

Not Trixie, but... other kids?

_Oh my god_

She half rose, her heart jumping in her chest, then stopped, looking down at Samael again.

How could she leave him?

But how could she ignore that?!

It faded.

She strained, listening.

She couldn't hear it at all now.

Had she imagined it?

The storm perhaps? It raged above her still, the wind howling through the shattered ceiling far above.

It felt as if the world were being torn apart.

And perhaps it was.

Samael's ruined face drew her gaze again.

Her heart grew so terribly heavy.

What hope was there now?

If she couldn't save him, how was she supposed to save an entire world?

Tears welled in her eyes.

She _couldn't._

The screaming returned - so much worse. Adults and children.

It wasn't the storm!

People were _dying!_

"I'm sorry, oh god, Samael! I have to help!"

As quickly as she could, as gently as she could, she laid him down against the wet tile.

Tears spilling from her eyes, she lowered and kissed his damaged lips.

And she got to her feet and she ran.

The tile was cold against her hands as she pushed herself up out of the end of the pool. Clambering to her feet, she aimed for the hallway leading back to the classrooms.

What was she going to do?! What was the plan?! How could she-

The entire room was erased in an overwhelming burst of light.

Spinning, with no sense of what was up or down, unable to see anything but a brilliance that obliterated everything, Chloe began to fall.

And she felt as if she were falling up, endlessly - suspended in a radiance that bathed her and filled her with the most glorious sense of love she'd every experienced.

No, that wasn't quite right.

When Trixie had shown herself as God...

That. That had felt like _this._

Chloe could hear wings. She could feel movement.

Someone was smiling at her, she could feel that.

She was being embraced by light.

In complete bliss, she laughed, and... someone laughed with her.

"Samael?"

_I love you, Chloe_

The floor met her feet.

She stood on her own.

And the light faded away.

Chloe wavered, staring blankly at a pool filled with broken metal beams and glass. Blood ran from the spot where she'd held Samael's broken body.

Empty now.

"Okay..." she mumbled, nodding dumbly. "Right..."

And eyes rolling up, she fainted to the floor.

* * *

_Hi everyone! Thanks for all of the lovely comments. :) The last chapter is definitely one of my favorites. I'm going to post a few chapters tonight, as many of you voted for more now. I always worry about doing that though, because I watch the stats and it always seems as if folks miss the earlier ones I'd posted!_

_Oh well. :) Thanks for reading, and sharing your thoughts with me. They make this very rewarding for me._


	50. How Little You Care

**_NOTE: This is the second chapter I've posted tonight. Be sure to catch the first one (To Hold On) right before this! (it's so tiny!)_**

_So, bad things happen in this chapter, but it ends with light. We learn a little bit more about why the Third is doing what he's doing here._

_I hope you'll take the time to comment, if you can :) And thanks for reading. :D_

* * *

"Trixie... monkey, wake up."

Trixie stirred, rising from the comforting space she'd made for herself inside.

Drawn back to wakefulness by the reassuring voice of her mom.

If mom was here, she was safe. Everything would be okay.

She opened her eyes.

Bright light streamed in, warm and yellow.

Sunlight?

No...

Spotlights?

"Mom?" she asked, and raised her hand to wipe at her eyes.

It was covered in blood.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she jerked up, clutching her wounded hand to her chest, her mouth falling open as she realized where she was.

On the stage.

In the auditorium?

And... and everyone in the school was sitting there, watching her.

"W-what?" she whispered.

But nobody moved. They weren't doing anything.

"Glad you're back. None of this will have much of an impact if you sleep through it."

"No," she moaned, dark dread swallowing her up at the sound of that voice.

Lucifer's son!

"HELP!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "SOMEBODY HELP!"

Nobody did _anything._

"They can't hear you. And you don't need their help."

The man appeared behind her, clamped an arm around her waist, and pulled her back to sit on a chair.

She screamed and fought him, kicking and punching out. He simply wrapped his arms over her and held her still.

And he leaned in close.

"They need _yours._"

There was a shift in the air. A palpable current of energy that pulsed out from the stage across the entire audience.

Everyone in front of her took in a sudden breath. They started shifting, looking about themselves, and voices rose in confusion.

"What the hell?"

"Uh..."

"Dave? Did I miss something?"

"Who's that?"

"Is that Trixie?"

"What's going on?"

"Martha, did you bring your class here?"

"No - we were... how did..."

"Everyone clap!" the man holding her yelled.

And the entire audience applauded immediately, some looking at their hands in shock.

"I'm not..."

"Hey! What the hell!"

"That's enough," he said.

Everyone stopped.

"Mrs. Harris..." a young girl said in the front row, her eyes wide. "I want to go to the bathroom? Can we go?"

"Yeah, I wanna go."

"Me too!"

"No one is going anywhere," Lucifer's son said quietly. "Now! How many of you know Trixie? Raise your hands."

"No..." Trixie whispered. "What are you doing?"

"Breaking more of your toys, Second," he whispered in her ear. "When you'll feel it most."

"Don't be shy!" he yelled, pulling from her. "Who knows Trixie?"

Trixie shook her head. "No, don't!"

"Mr. Campbell, what's going on? Why can't I get up?"

"Just stay calm everyone, I'm sure there's a reason for all of this."

"There is," the man holding her purred. "There's a reward for participating, too. C'mon, hands up!"

And a third of the group before them raised their hands, slowly, tentatively, staring at each other as they did so.

"See? Easy. Right then, I don't need the rest of you."

Everyone who hadn't raised their hands slumped suddenly in their seats - some forward, some back, some onto the shoulders of their friends. Their eyes flat and staring.

Like puppets whose strings had been cut.

"NO!" Trixie screamed, seeing what'd happened, knowing what he'd done. "NO! LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

Confusion followed, attempts to rouse the ones who had fallen, followed swiftly by rising cries of disbelief.

"Paul? Paul?!" Mrs. Norris in the front row called, shaking a boy beside her. Her fingers moved to his throat, and her motions grew agitated as her eyes grew wide enough to show white. "He's not breathing! Somebody help! I can't get up!"

The cries and shouts grew into screaming.

Trixie started to shake, and tried desperately to sink back into herself again.

"No. You'll stay. We're almost done."

"Stop," she moaned, her throat closing as she started to cry. "Please stop! Please! I'll do anything you want!"

The man sighed.

"I want you to watch," he said flatly. "I want you to feel how much this hurts. Because maybe, just maybe, when I let you remember again, you'll have an inkling of how much it hurt me, spending a lifetime locked in a prison where I was forced to watch _everything_ you were able to do, everything you were able to _create,_ without any way to do so myself. Eons of watching you build and play and fashion entire worlds, as I was frozen, unable to do _ANYTHING._"

His eyes were storms of fire as he leaned in close. "It is our nature to create, Second. It is what we exist for. Our only purpose. You took _everything_ I could have been from me when you joined with the First - the one _I_ was to join with - and locked me away. You took it, and you left me with _nothing._ All I had left... all I could do... was watch."

The arms around her tightened, and she felt the oddest thing, even as her mind tried to make sense of the words he was saying. Which was impossible, because he was crazy!

Something wet against her cheek.

The screaming had died to sobbing, and the mumbled attempts of the teachers to comfort the students around them.

"Mark, why don't you come up here?" the man said suddenly, wiping his face. "You're really worried about Trixie. Lots of feelings there. Come on up! You've won the prize!"

"NO!" Trixie screamed, thrashing against the man's arms. "LEAVE HIM ALONE! DON'T YOU DARE HURT HIM!"

Mark, his blue eyes wide, stood stiffly and walked in slow, forced steps across the row of seats. Someone tried to grab him, catching his jeans and his black baseball shirt, but their arms jerked away as if they'd been burned.

"The rest of you, I'm stunned by how little you care. Don't you have any real friends, Second?"

"Pleeease, stop," she cried, shaking her head, twisting to stare at his profile, at those burning eyes. "Please let them go!"

He turned to look at her.

"Fine. I'll let them all go." He smirked. "Slowly."

Eyes widened across the seats, and then the screaming began again, desperate and rising.

And Trixie's eyes bulged at the sight of something drifting from their bodies - a fine smoke. They began flailing, raising hands to their own shocked gazes, as their limbs began burning ever so slowly, claiming them from the tips of their fingers and down, and rising from their legs.

She screamed louder than she ever had before, as if by the force of her voice she could stop what he was doing. She punched at him, kicked and bucked, but he simply held her.

And Mark, his eyes wet and wide with shock, walked the final few steps towards them both.

"Leave her alone," he whispered, shaking. "Stop hurting people!"

"GET AWAY, MARK!" Trixie screamed, still fighting Lucifer's son.

The man holding her froze, and his eyes widened.

"No," he whispered. "That's impossible."

He stood suddenly, tossing her aside. She landed awkwardly, grasping her hand back to her chest, and sought for Mark again.

And Mark started shouting, being stupidly brave, when he didn't understand at all!

"LEAVE EVERYBODY ALONE!"

Because this man wasn't scared of him!

He was scared by something else - the lights were flaring around them, and everything was getting brighter, and-

"Die," the man said flatly, pointing at Mark without bothering to look.

Mark fell.

Trixie screamed, jerking forward.

And the world dissolved in a supernova of light.


	51. Shifting Streams of Gold

_**PLEASE NOTE: This is the THIRD chapter I have posted tonight - be sure to catch the first two ('To Hold On' and 'How Little You Care') before you read this. Otherwise you're going to be sooooo confused! ;)**_

_The big confrontation, folks. And a clash of gods. Things get kind of wild. Hopefully it makes sense. ;)_

_Btw, I know some of you think Lucifer is back. Not quite. ;) That chapter before was a moment of incredible healing for Samael, and a connection to something much more. And that's all I'll say without wanting to spoil anything that's about to happen._

_Hope you enjoy. Hope you'll leave a comment, let me know what you thought. Regardless, I'm incredibly thankful you're reading this :)_

* * *

**You are done here.**

The Third stood in the heart of a sun, his being bombarded with burning waves of light, and fixed a smile on his face.

It was hard. He didn't feel like smiling.

Because he was terrified.

The being in front of him wore no form he could grasp or manipulate. He could not find the shape of the being's mind to suggest or force his will.

"Fake dad?"

**You are done here.**

"Neat trick, Father. How'd you do it?"

He reached out, hoping to hasten the 'letting go' he'd started on the Second's schoolmates. The distraction might give him time to regroup. And of course, he'd be finishing what he'd started.

He'd never had a chance to start a project before, so it was important for him to _finish._

But... they weren't there?

Why couldn't he find them?

Another wave of searing heat slammed into him, dissolving the first layer of his skin, before he managed to quickly grow it back.

Wincing, he reached out for Trixie, knowing he'd dropped her to his right, and sought the smothered essence of the Second.

But she was gone as well.

**WHERE ARE THEY!** he roared back, trying to fold space around the being, hoping to contain the angel who'd become so much more, to crush him and reclaim his moment.

He needed to finish this! He needed the Second to see!

And he screamed as his body was dissolved completely.

Reforming, he staggered back, and raised his hand.

"Your father did this to me," he moaned. "Just like he did terrible things to you. We've both suffered by him!"

The light began to fade, and the being before him became clearer.

The copy of Lucifer, wings outstretched, incandescent, was suspended above the stage.

His features, outlined in light, betrayed nothing.

The Third tried to crush him, to make the matter of his being malleable and extrude it into infinity.

Samael merely watched him.

"How are you doing this?" the Third whispered, seeking the edges of Samael's mind, as he had before when he'd forced him to hand over the Second. But his manipulations unraveled and fell to nothing.

Samael lowered, and where his feet touched the stage, the wood burned, tendrils of smoke snaking up from each step.

The Third moved back, hating himself for doing so.

"He took the First from me," he said, his hands raised in the only defense he had left, as Samael stepped nearer.

His eyes grew wet. Because what he said now wasn't layered with anything but truth. And it _hurt._

"My race, angel... that of your father and I... we must _join_ with another to spark the creative force that fuels everything we do. I was to join with the First. I sang my songs in frequencies that don't exist anymore, in the nothing before this reality your father made. The joining was to be _mine._"

His human voice broke.

He'd never felt that before.

Inconvenient. Unwanted.

He stared up with Chloe's brown eyes into eyes of pure light, as Samael drew closer still. "I would have made so many beautiful things, dad. I was going to create worlds of such wonder. Whole realms of life that would have brought you... and me... to awe. Good things. Where there was such joy. I was going to do so much..."

Samael's molten hand reached to grasp his shoulder, burning swiftly through his flesh.

The Third tried to flee, to blink from this space into another, as the remade father of his human body pulled him into an embrace.

But it was fruitless.

Pointless.

He was dissolved, screaming, his flesh evaporated, leaving behind his true form - a being of pure energy, radiant with sworls of purple and azure light.

**I was going to do better**

Samael held him still.

**I know**

The Third began to sense his own unraveling, as this angel - whatever he had impossibly become - began to blaze again, his light overwhelming the Third's own.

He did not understand.

He did not want to end.

He had simply wanted a chance to _begin._

"Brother! STOP!"

The sundering abruptly ended, leaving the Third dimmed and flickering, the remaining essence of his consciousness scrambling to catch up.

That voice.

Reality began to mean something to him again, and the world resolved into forms that made some sense.

But not much sense, because...

**Uncle?**

It was! Amenadiel was standing in front of them, his hand smoldering on Samael's shoulder. Wearing the same clothes he'd fallen through that tear in the universe in?

**Didn't I kill you?** the Third mumbled in his own tongue, about as confused as a god-like being could be.

"You can stop now, Luci," Amenadiel said, before pulling his hand away, red and blistered. "It's over."

Samael's form faded again, until the light was gone completely.

Frowning, he reached out to grasp Amenadiel's hand, before pulling away to stare over the angel's shoulder.

Amenadiel stared at his unburnt hand, confusion rippling from him in waves.

Someone clapped and made a bright, happy sound of utter gibberish.

The Third finally grasped the presence of others, and as he reached out to understand them, his being began to flicker and flare rapidly.

Because the child, Amenadiel's awful spawn, was being held by a tall, long-haired woman.

Who wasn't really a woman.

Beyond her burned a wide tear in the fabric of the Second's universe.

The Third shimmered. He began to pulse in vibrant cerulean waves. He tried to speak, and failed, his energies scattering nervously.

**The First**

**It... it is _you_**

The woman smirked, bouncing Charlie in her arms.

"I heard you made quite the mess."

**I was upset by my imprisonment, I sought-**

"You tried to kill my son," she said over his crashing tones, silencing him. Grasping the child's little hand, she wiggled it fondly as her human smile grew very sharp. "And my grandson."

**I acted... unwisely.** His light dimmed dramatically. **I must confess I killed your daughter, Remiel, in my misguided attempt to hurt the Second. I apologize.**

The woman froze momentarily, her eyes still fixed on Charlie.

"Amenadiel, take your son," she said quietly. "Lucifer, stand back from the Third."

"I am not Lucifer."

The woman blinked and stared at Samael.

The Third started hiccuping indigo.

**I may have also played a part in the irrevocable destruction of Lucifer. Which was not my intention, honestly, I sim-**

"HUSBAND!" the woman roared, handing Charlie back to Amenadiel, who was staring at Samael in shock.

The Third wished now for nothing more than his dissolution to continue, and considered trying to rope Samael into resuming.

**It is also... possible that I caused the Second to forget his true nature, and triggered the breakdown of this entire reality, but-**

**STOP SPEAKING**, the First snapped.

The Third's colors shifted to mud.

Samael shifted reality in the slightest amount, in some way the Third failed utterly to grasp.

Until he suddenly did, as the people he had killed were revealed slumped in their seats - and the rest had run and were still running through the doors, the halls. Healed and whole now.

Samael had played with _his_ mind. Had hidden the vulnerable from his senses.

_How?_

To the far left of the stage, the Second, still wearing the guise of the girl, crouched over the body of the boy the Third had killed.

She was crying.

The Third released a sigh of pure white.

He had done what he came to do.

Reaching out with his muted energies, he undid the memory bindings he'd placed on the Second's being.

**Remember**

The girl stiffened, drawing in a long, strangled breath.

"Stand back," the First said softly.

The Third prepared, sending out jagged rays of silver. His destruction was imminent - too weakened from Samael's workings, his ability to deflect the Second's attack too compromised.

But there was one thing he could do, as he watched the form of the girl turn, a small human rage twisting her face before her form dissolved in a roaring explosion of light.

He sang.

He sang to the First, the songs he had first weaved for her eons ago in the void. He sang them, twining them with shifting streams of gold and lavender that danced and shimmered through the air towards and around her.

It had been a promise then, one he had thought she accepted.

He would die making that promise again, and that was fine.

The Second's attack was as brutal as he had expected - pierced by the jagged edges of splintered realities, and siphoned in streams through gravity-thick dimensional tears, he screamed in the voice of his race, shuddering in waves of crimson.

Samael's undoing had been so much _kinder._

His consciousness flickered and began to dissipate.

**THAT IS ENOUGH**, the First growled.

The Second was torn away from the Third's fading form - the dull twinkling light of a dying star.

And when his enemy rushed him again, seeking to finish what was started, the First stepped in the way.

**STOP OR I WILL MAKE YOU**

The Second flared in anger. **HE KILLED OUR CREATIONS**

The woman sighed.

"He killed _your_ creations, husband. I have little care for the lives of your humans." She folded her arms in front of the blazing, raging form of the Second.

Her head tilted thoughtfully. "Except for Dan of course." She looked back at the diminished Third, an eyebrow arched dramatically. "You didn't hurt Dan, did you?"

The Third could barely speak - thoughts rose and fell, losing consistency and meaning. But he did his best.

**Made him... sleep... more?**

The First smiled.

"Oh, I'm glad. He was always so... _tense._"

**HE KILLED OUR DAUGHTER!**

The entire building shuddered with the Second's rage - the effect mitigated by the Second himself, as the Third felt the ever expanding resolving the Second was doing across this dimension, restoring stability and identity across every level and facet of life.

It was a little disappointing. He'd hoped for a more lasting destruction.

The boy's body lay where the Second had left it though. Eyes open and staring.

That would have to do.

A last ray of fractured reality speared through the center of his being, thrust there by the Second.

**FOR MARK**

And the Third flickered in bright sparks of delighted yellow.

As his consciousness faded to nothing.


	52. Your Reliance On Order

Chloe pushed down the hall past the people running from the auditorium - kids of all ages, and what had to be their teachers, sobbing, yelling, some still screaming, and every single one wearing expressions of utter devastation.

She couldn't imagine what they'd experienced, and she had no time to dwell - she drove through the stream, stopping only once as her daughter's maths teacher grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her away.

"N-no, no, no, no," was all he said, his eyes wide and haunted, before she pulled herself free and pressed on.

Light was spilling from around the double doors leading into the auditorium, and the light pulsed with layers of sounds her mind couldn't interpret at all - were they tones, or textures, or dream realities she could reach out and touch?

She froze, trapped in the stuttering of her own mind as the song played, before the light flashed beyond white and bled into an awful crimson.

Then she screamed and grabbed at her ears at the cacophonous outrage that followed... before all sound dropped to the soft tones of a human voice.

Shaking, she reached for the handle, clasped it, and the entire building shook with the cacophony again, the clash of lightning and thunder doubled, tripled, tenfold - as if a thunderstorm the size of a city was taking its rage out on a thimble.

She couldn't do this! What could she possibly use in the battle against a god?! She was going to get squashed like a damn bug!

Another sound came, and even in the alien soundscape she could hear anger and triumph.

Had he hurt Samael again?!

The thought pushed her forward - flinging the door open she ran inside, wishing she had her gun at hand.

Because she could at least shoot something before she was wiped from reality.

Chloe stopped in staggered steps halfway down the aisle, her mind struggling to comprehend the scene in front of her.

Because up on the stage...

"Charlotte?!" she blurted out, before more left her in a mangled rush, "Amena- _Charlie?!_"

What were they doing here?! And how could Charlotte be here?! She was dead!

The woman was scowling, her hands cupped around something that flickered through her fingers.

The rest of the room finally leeched into Chloe's awareness.

Bodies. Almost every seat held someone boneless and sagging and staring.

"Oh god," she mumbled, holding her hand over her mouth.

More sank in.

Something burning and flickering and impossible near the stage.

Samael standing, untouched, watching her with a soft expression.

Her heart soared, thankful, until she saw what lay prone beyond him.

A boy.

She recognized him.

And forming above the boy, a figure that stole her breath away.

"TRIXIE!" she cried, and she ran forward again, ignoring everything else.

"Husband, I told you to stop," Charlotte said, as Chloe stumbled up the stairs to her daughter's side.

A glance down at the boy's body made her heart lurch.

She'd been right. It _was_ Mark.

_Oh no_

"Trixie..."

And she stopped then, because it sank in once more, who Trixie really was.

But her daughter looked up at her with eyes bereft.

And it really didn't matter then. Sweeping forward, she engulfed her girl in a hug as her daughter cried.

"I really don't understand why you chose to participate in this charade, honestly," Charlotte continued, her heels clicking across the floor.

"Mom," Amenadiel said, in a low, exasperated tone.

Chloe's eyes widened. Mom?

Chloe turned to face the woman as she neared, still holding something in her hands.

"You're... you're... the Goddess?" she squeaked.

Because Lucifer had told her who Charlotte had been at first, soon after they'd moved in together.

This was _insane._

Charlotte ignored her completely, and stared down at Trixie, who was glaring right back.

"Stop wallowing and restore them," she said bluntly.

Trixie's eyes filled with tears again. "I can't. He tore them from me, their scrolls aren't connected anymore, and-"

The Goddess made an irritated sound. "You and your reliance on _order,_ husband. I told you the scrolls were a mistake, but you had to be the complete control freak and scribble every little thing your little lives would do down before you made them!"

Trixie's eyes fell. "But I don't know any other way. I needed to make sure everything was _right._ It's all so complex, I had to make sure everything would fit and work together, no matter the choices made!"

"And did everything fit and work together?" she snapped. "Was everything right?!"

Trixie pursed her lips awkwardly. "Mostly?"

"War."

"Their choice."

"Disease."

"Unavoidable."

"Natural disasters."

"Most of those were yours."

The Goddess tilted her head with a small smile. "Well, that's true."

She stared down at Trixie. "Ditch the scrolls."

"I can't. Everything's tied to them. Scrap them and I scrap everything."

The Goddess shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the gaping wound in the air.

"I had a fresh start. I can highly recommend it."

Chloe raised her hand slowly.

"Do I have a say?"

The woman who looked like Charlotte, but wasn't, rolled her eyes and looked back at Trixie, ignoring Chloe yet again.

"Fine," she growled under her breath, before shouting to the air, "Azrael, sweetheart! Remiel's soul, body, and her damned scroll, bring them here, please!"

A moment later there was a rush of wings, and the high school nerd was back, holding an odd looking tube, and the hand of the softly translucent form of her sister. Remiel's body lay before them, pale and uncorrupted, save for the large hole in her chest.

"Mom!" Azrael yelled, grabbing the Goddess in a massive hug, before handing over what apparently was the scroll.

Chloe stared at the angel of death.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Because Azrael looked a little... off. Her eyes were completely dark, her skin pale over limbs long and gaunt, her hair a scattered mess.

Azrael smirked. "It's been rough. Little better now. Thanks for keeping Samael here, that was important." She glanced at her brother with a smile that showed a lot of jagged teeth.

Remiel's spirit gave the Goddess a small smile, Trixie an even smaller one, and then looked down at her dead body.

_I am lesser,_ she said with a ghost's sigh.

"Husband, pay attention," the Goddess, dressed as Charlotte, said, jerking the scroll so the entire thing unrolled before them.

Chloe felt weird.

"You're not really supposed to see this stuff, mom," Trixie said softly, holding her hand.

And the Goddess did something to the scroll that Chloe couldn't track with her eyes properly, as she talked about how you could unravel what didn't fit anymore from the scroll until the connection to the soul was reestablished, and then use the substance of what had been unraveled to rewrite what _had_ happened, including a very Lazarus-like resurrection.

Which happened before their eyes, as Remiel's soul snapped back into her now healed body, and jerked up from the ground with a gasp.

Chloe looked over at Samael.

He was watching everything with a calm kind of serenity she could feel in the air.

"Bring Lucifer back now," she whispered, feeling a bloom of hope in her heart.

He'd know who he was again! He'd be her Lucifer again!

Samael lifted his gaze to her. Smiling gently, he shook his head.

Her brow flickered, but she looked back at Charlotte expectantly. "Lucifer, now."

The Goddess fixed her with a gaze on the far side of murderous.

"Please?" Chloe added.

The gaze flicked away to the angel of death. "Lucifer's scroll, Azrael." She turned to study Samael. "I'm not quite sure why you've created this replica, husband. Where is Lucifer's body? His soul? I don't... sense him."

Azrael looked a thousand times more weary than she had before.

Charlotte's eyes grew wide.

"Where is my son?"

Chloe looked between them all, her gut twisting.

If they could do it to Remiel, they had to do it for Lucifer!

"Bring him back!" she cried, and she glared at Samael, suddenly hating the serenity she could feel from him. "No, don't just accept it! You deserve to be whole!"

Samael smiled softly, and a soft glow spread across his skin. "I am."

"What did you do?" Charlotte whispered down at Trixie, her eyes wide.

Trixie's eyes were filled with tears. "He was lost to me, I felt I had no choice. I didn't know I could do what you've just done here."

"Lucifer's scroll is gone, mom," Azrael said finally, in a voice of grinding stone. "But Sammy's here now. He's my brother, and that's all that matters."

"My name is not Sammy."

"He's also reeeeally literal at the moment," she said with a small smirk. "That'll wear off."

The angel of death hugged the Goddess, whose eyes were locked in shock with Samael's now, then stepped back, spreading her ragged wings wide.

"I have the dying to collect," she murmured wearily.

And then she was gone.

"No!" Chloe yelled, grabbing at Charlotte's shoulder. "Fix this like you fixed her! Remiel killed him, did you know that?!"

"Mom," Trixie said quietly, squeezing her hand. "It won't work. There is nothing left of him to fix. I'm so sorry."

The Goddess looked away from Samael with tears in her eyes, glancing at Amenadiel who seemed similarly struck, closing his eyes tight.

She glared coldly at Trixie then.

"I think our celestial divorce is long overdue. I don't trust you with the custody of our children, but they seem happy here and I will let that be." She sighed. "Never bridge our realities again."

"I did that to save Amenadiel," Trixie mumbled.

"Yes, and I am grateful for that, for it also gave me the chance to meet my beautiful grandson." She smiled softly at Charlie, secure in Amenadiel's arms.

Charlie grinned back and burbled something happily indistinct.

"But never do it again," the Goddess said, her eyes snapping back to Trixie. "The decision to visit will be on my terms. Not yours."

Trixie nodded, her gaze shifting to the twinkling light cradled by the First.

"My songs were better."

Charlotte smirked and turned on her heel. "Your songs were _louder_, Second, let's be honest. Enjoy your toys. Be kind to my kids. Darlings, I will see you in an eon or two."

"Wait," Trixie said, stepping forward. "What about the rest of the scroll - you didn't finish it?"

The Goddess stepped to the mouth of the tear in the world and gave a small smile back.

"Embrace chaos, my dear. Let the souls write their futures themselves."

"Bye, mom," Amenadiel said, bouncing Charlie in his arms.

"Goodbye, my sweet boy. Look after your new brother, and my beautiful Charlie."

As she stepped through into her own universe, the light cupped in her hands began to shimmer and the softest sound filled the air.

A song, the faintest echo of what Chloe had heard before coming in. It still spoke to her in words and visions.

And they were all beautiful.

The Goddess was gone then, and they stood, watching the wound close.

"Remiel," Chloe said flatly, her gaze focused on the empty space that remained. "I am going to hate you for the rest of my life."

"I deserve it," Remiel said, before leaving with the soft sound of beating wings.

A sudden gasp came from her left.

Mark was sitting up, staring around himself. He jerked back at the sight of Samael, who was looking about as angelic as an angel could. Glowing softly and white winged.

Chloe couldn't muster a smile.

But she was glad Mark was okay.

A predictable storm of gasps followed from the audience, as every single body jerked back into life.

And then they all disappeared.

Trixie held out her hand, and picked Mark up off the floor. He looked at her and back at Samael in shock.

"Is that real?" he whispered to her as she held both of his hands.

"I'm glad you're okay," Trixie said, looking up into his eyes in a soft way. "Go home and sleep now. I fixed your house. It's no longer at the bottom of that sinkhole caused by that stupid earthquake."

Mark jerked his gaze back from Samael and looked at her crookedly.

"What?!"

And then he was gone.

"Dad. Trixie? Really?" Amenadiel asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

She smiled at him and walked over to take his hand. "It's complicated. But I'm so proud of you. You have been so brave and so strong through everything. The world is a better place with you here."

Amenadiel's gaze grew soft, dipping to Trixie's small hand, grasped in his own. "Thanks, Dad."

"And Charlie, what an adventure you're about to have," Trixie said with a grin, grasping his even smaller hand.

The little boy smiled mischievously, giving the smallest nod.

"Wait... what adventure?" Amenadiel asked, looking between his child and Trixie, his eyes widening in concern.

Trixie gave him her most sneaky smile. "A good one. Go home to Linda. She's all better now."

"Linda?" Samael said suddenly, drawing everyone's eye.

With Chloe, the gaze came with an ache she didn't think would ever go away.

Samael smiled beautifully.

And the ache lessened somewhat.

Because there was so much _joy_ in him. She'd never seen Lucifer's eyes like that before - open and absolutely unmarred by any kind of pain.

"I have met this Linda, I believe. She is the wisest human on this Earth, is she not?"

Chloe smirked.

Amenadiel grinned his gorgeous smile.

"Yes," they both said in unison back at Samael, before smiling at each other.

"I'll go, then," Amenadiel said softly. "Goodbye brother, I hope we can talk soon. I look forward to getting to know you."

Samael bowed slightly in reply.

"Bye Amenadiel, bye Charlie," Chloe said with a wave.

Another breeze came with the flurry of feathers.

And the stage then held three.

* * *

_Hi everyone! Thank you for all of the comments! Yay! :D _

_I'm so glad I didn't lose anyone (or at least, it didn't seem like I did) with the cosmic light show in the last chapter :D I'm really kind of curious what everyone thinks of the Third now. Also, it might seem like a bit of a cheat, un-deading everyone, but once the First showed the Second how to do basic Scroll Revision 101, it was game on. _

_For everyone except Lucifer... _

_...until..._


	53. The Little Miracles

**_UPDATE: Hi! Sorry, very very busy at work, so a little delayed in posting a new chapter. Hope to do so tomorrow (Sat) :)_**

**_NOTE: This is the SECOND chapter I've posted tonight - please be sure to catch the chapter before this one (Your Reliance On Order)._**

_Unfortunately, this will be the last chapter I post tonight, but I think it's a very good one to leave you all on. :)_

_This is obviously not the end of this story. I have many more little moments to come. But this will do for a few days._

_Thanks for sticking with this story through its many twists and turns. Let me know what you think, if you have a moment. And thank you, as always, for reading :)_

* * *

Chloe sighed.

"What happens now?" she asked, feeling exhausted and defeated.

They'd won, right?

Why didn't this feel like a win?

The chair beside her was suddenly very appealing, and she sat down. Something pinched her thigh, and she dug into her pants before finding the culprit.

With some difficulty, she pulled out Lucifer's ring.

The sight felt like a punch in the gut. With a small sound, somewhere on the edge of grief, she closed her hand tightly around it.

Trixie stood before her.

Chloe stared up at God, unsmiling.

"You make mistakes."

Trixie nodded, sadly.

"I've made terrible ones."

"I'm angry at you, a little, I think," Chloe mumbled, fresh tears coming to her eyes. "Do you really see us as toys? Little lives to play with?"

Her daughter, who wasn't her daughter but also was, shook her head as her eyes grew soft.

"Those were their words," she said with a sigh, looking off to where the wound in the world had been. "They are well suited to each other. They could not see the value of the little miracles. The little moments."

When Trixie looked back, her young gaze was warm and bright. "Your lives are gifts to me. Each and every one of you a treasure. I may write out the bounds of your moments, but what you do with them - the intensity with which you live them, the gentleness, the passion, the care you fill them with brings me indescribably joy. You are not toys. You are not experiments. You are all, every single one, your own expressions of love and creation. I adore you all."

Chloe wiped at her eyes and gave a small smile, her gaze dipping to her clenched hand.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now." Her eyes rose to her daughter. "Lucifer's gone. And you're God. That's a big deal."

Trixie gave a small smile. "The biggest."

"What happens now?" she asked again, yearning for an answer that made everything okay.

The smile turned sad. "I finish what the Third interrupted."

Chloe closed her eyes.

"I don't want to forget," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears again.

A child's hand threaded through her own.

"Are you sure?"

She opened her eyes slowly. Her beautiful daughter watched her with an endless patience and love.

But... it wasn't really her daughter. And she knew she'd never be able to look at Trixie quite the same way again.

"No... I'm not," she said honestly, her gaze dipping, then drifting to Samael.

He watched her with a gentle smile.

"What happens to you?"

"I return home," Samael answered her softly. "Where I belong."

"And I try to be the best father I can be," Trixie said, just as softly, "to the son who saved everything."

Chloe smiled a little, despite her pain. There was such joy in both of their faces.

"Can I think about it?" she asked. "Because maybe I need this pain to be who I truly am. If I forget, then I'm not really the same person at all, am I?"

"Momma, you will always be Chloe, no matter what I do. But take a moment. I wish to bring my daughter some peace - she is worn through. Son, stay with her?"

"Of course."

And her daughter simply blinked away.

It felt like a new wound on the world.

Somehow, Chloe managed to give Samael a small smile.

"Thank you for saving my life back at the hospital. I didn't get a chance to say that before."

"You're welcome," he answered, smiling back. "Thank you for saving mine."

"Oh, right," she whispered, staring down at her hand briefly, still clenched about the ring. "I told the angel of death to suck it."

Samael tilted his head with a thoughtful frown. "Those were not the words you used at all."

Chloe smirked. "Azrael was right. You are very literal."

She stared at him then, as if trying to look into him.

"What happened back at the pool, Samael? After you..." She waved her hand mysteriously, unsure how to capture what had had happened to him.

"I made no such gesture," he answered, frowning. "And now you are doing that thing with your eyes that Linda did. You are irritated with me?"

Shaking her head, she looked back down at her hand, and slowly opened her fist. The silver sparkled in the spotlights. The void stone was terribly dark against her skin.

"You said you loved me, Samael," she said quietly. "Why'd you say that?"

Footsteps followed. Samael's shimmering form came into view.

She looked up, into eyes filled with love.

"Because I love you, Chloe," he said softly.

Her heart quickened in her chest.

"As I love all of you," he added, in the same gentle, loving voice.

"Oh," she whispered, withdrawing back against the chair. "Oh."

The ache returned - a dark, cold ball in her chest.

"Oh."

Her mouth turned down, and she struggled to keep herself from crying. "That's... that's nice."

"You are hurt. I did not mean to hurt you."

Shaking her head, she stood from the chair, stepping aside so he wasn't quite so close.

"Please understand, Chloe. I have experienced your love for Lucifer. I have felt what you both shared. It was beautiful."

She finally looked at him, her eyes tight.

"But I am not Lucifer. My place is not here. I must go home. Do you understand?"

Chloe closed her eyes and nodded.

That was it then.

"I think I'm okay forgetting now," she said, her voice breaking. "Here."

She held out the ring. "This was Lucifer's. You should have it. I don't think I need it anymore."

Frowning, he looked down.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a ring?" she said, a little surprised he didn't know. "You wear it."

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "How?"

She blinked, and shook her head slightly. "Wow. Well, you just... here." She plucked it from her hand, and took his own gently. His skin was so beautifully warm, and the landscape of his fingers so familiar, that she lingered for a moment, her heart sighing, before finally sliding the ring onto his right hand. "It should fit, you have the same hands. There..."

And that absolutely broke her heart. The walls shattered, and she broke down completely, grasping his hand tight, and covering her mouth to smother her sobs.

"There is..." he said, in a strange whisper, "something... here..."

He made an odd sound.

A kind of grunt, coupled with a gasp.

It snapped her from her grief, and she looked up at him, blinking through the blur of tears.

He was holding his chest. The spot right over his heart.

Then he shifted his hand, and grasped the robe he was wearing.

"What... am I..." Frowning, still looking at the gown, he shook his head. "No, I am wearing my... wait."

Lifting his head, his eyes found her own, full of shock and confusion.

And full of _Lucifer._

"Oh my god," she whispered.

He shot forward, engulfed her with his arms, and held her so tightly she felt her ribs bend.

Then he pushed her back, and she had a small heart attack, thinking that no, it really couldn't be him, and that Samael had realized what was doing. How strangely he was acting.

But his hands were lifting the arm of her shirt, and he was pressing and holding the skin there, and staring at her, completely lost.

"But you were..." and his gaze widened as he took in the curtain behind him, then the stage around them, and he finally turned to look over the empty seats.

His arm looped behind her, the familiar cradling of her back she was so used to, so in love with, as he turned and twisted, and then shook his head as he turned back to her.

And brows arching, eyes dark and yearning, he pressed in, closing his lips against her own and kissing her needfully, desperately, as his hand traveled warmly up the back of her neck to cradle her head.

And she started to cry.

The kisses lingered, wet with tears, and she grabbed him and held him so tight, and cried against him until he finally pulled gently away, his arms still wrapped around her.

He smiled, his eyes travelling from her eyes, to her brow, her lips. He raised a hand and swept a few wayward strands of hair aside, then met her gaze again as his smile widened.

"I am an idiot," he said.

The words were so unexpected, she just laughed.

And he grinned, and kissed her again, pressing in once more as his gaze grew hungry.

But she raised a hand and very, very gently, pushed him back.

He looked down at her hand and back, the smile fading.

And she asked, because she needed to understand.

"Lucifer?"

He opened his mouth to answer, with a small smirk, and then he stopped. Frowning, he studied her, and looked down at himself again.

"I am very confused."

The joy she'd felt a moment before grew harried and fluttery. Her hands clenched around his gown and his arm.

And she was honest.

"Me too. Are you Lucifer?"

She needed an answer. She had one of sorts in the way his body melded to hers, the soft set of his eyes, but nothing made any sense. There was still a strangeness here she didn't understand.

He smirked at her again, snapping back to what she knew and expected. But the expression softened again, and he looked at her in wonder.

"Am I?" he asked.

But he seemed to dismiss his own question, frowning and shaking his head at himself, as the slightest hint of a British accent crept into his voice. "What is... of course I am... I..."

"Samael?" she whispered, dreading the answer.

He looked at her, frowning deeply.

"Chloe, I am very confused."

And the way he said her name was all the answer she would ever need.

Smiling, she pressed forward and hugged him tightly.

With a contented sigh, he folded his arms around her and rested his cheek on the crown of her head.

It was perfect. It was wonderful. She could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing, and hear the steady beat of his heart.

His white wings curled around them both.

"I am very happy," he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead.

She nodded. "Me too."

She wouldn't ask any more questions. She'd just hold him.

"Chloe?"

Of course, she couldn't stop _him_ from asking them.

Dammit.

"Yes?"

"I was shot, was I not?"

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded against him.

"I thought I died?"

Frowning, she held him closer. She couldn't talk about that... but she could ask a question.

"What do you remember?"

He drew in a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh. She rode it out, dreading what he would say.

"My creation. Father telling me to save you and stop the dark... wait."

He pulled back from her abruptly, his expression wide with shock. "We had a child?! It hurt you!"

And his eyes burned molten red, as he bared his teeth in anger. "I will tear..."

Chloe just held on.

He blinked, and the fires were gone.

"I did. I stopped him. Oh, Chloe. I unmade the child. He was... he was still our son, and I..."

His gaze dropped sorrowfully.

She cupped his cheek and shook her head. "No. He wasn't, not really. He did terrible things. You saved everybody from him. That's what mattered."

But he was deep in thought again. "I fell, did I not? Into Hell. No... that was later... Into water? And you held me? And then..."

A smile grew on his face as his eyes found hers again.

His skin grew soft and bright.

"I found love. For myself. For who I was, once. Who I am now. Lucifer _was_ good. You and Linda were right."

Chloe clenched his robe tighter.

She couldn't trust herself to speak.

"I _am_ Lucifer, Chloe," he said, noticing. Smiling, he took the hand clenched in his robe and held it tenderly. "I am myself. I am... still very confused. But..." he looked to the side, thoughtfully. "I remember... camping?"

His gaze snapped to hers and grew very serious.

"Please do not ask me to go camping again."

Chloe laughed abruptly and shook her head. "Oh, god no. Never, _ever_ again."

He grinned. "I liked what we did _while_ camping, though. Very much." Pressing in close, his gaze traveled to her lips. "Let us do that again, very soon." He kissed her, and it quickly grew hungry. "Like... now," he murmured against her mouth. "Here."

The response in her body was immediate, and she pressed very happily back, before quickly shaking her head.

"We can't have sex on a school stage, Lucifer!"

He stopped, and pulled back, frowning.

And for a horrible moment, she thought she'd lost him again.

But his gaze drifted behind her, and slid back, slyly.

And he grinned.

"There is a curtain."


	54. The Dumbest Omniscient Being

God blinked back into the school, onto the stage, for one more time as Trixie.

And as that young girl, God stood alone and deep in thought.

Chloe had decided to forget. He had felt her choice as he was discussing the terms of a break with Azrael, and had stopped, struck by it more strongly than he had expected.

He'd pulled himself away from that scene then and focused fully on his weary daughter instead, repairing some of the damage done to the fabric of her being by the Third's disruption, before working further to restore more lives lost using the First's scroll trick.

Every life but Lucifer's.

The knowledge that he had destroyed his son with his own ignorance had eclipsed the entirety of every moment of anguish he had felt as Trixie under the Third's control.

Mark had come close. But Mark was restored, and would live a long, rewarding life now.

Lucifer was lost.

And so it was that God stood as Trixie on the stage, his being focused inward entirely, staring down at the wound the Third had made through a young girl's hand.

The cut was ugly.

He could heal it with less than a whim.

But he did not.

Finally, he looked outward, with a young girl's heavy sigh.

And he scrunched up her face.

Because Chloe and Samael were doing something naughty behind him.

Giggling, whispers, and moans rose from behind the wall of heavy fabric.

"Unbelievable!" Trixie squeaked, flinging the entire curtain back with a wave of her hand. "This is my _school!_"

There was a loud cry, a wild yelp, and a flurry of wingbeats.

And suddenly Chloe was standing, wide eyed and wild of hair, clothed with two strategically placed wing tips, arching from Samael, who stood behind her with similarly unkempt locks and his arms looped around her waist.

_Scowling._

"Father!" Samael snapped. "Do you mind?! We were conversing in private!"

Chloe actually snorted, then quickly covered her mouth.

"Hi, God," she said brightly, then started giggling, while trying to hide it behind her hand again.

Trixie's jaw dropped, her eyes focused entirely on Samael.

Because...

_Because..._

With a small sound, God fell to a little girl's knees.

And stopped _everything._

Every single thing. Every molecule in the universe, every facet of himself made flesh, every son and daughter.

And he began to cry.

Something his race did not do outside of a material body.

But something he very much needed to do in one, now.

Somehow... Lucifer was _here._

Absorbing the moments he'd missed, God understood how.

Over eons of contact, the void stone in Lucifer's ring had linked with his son's essence, and, at the moment of death, had snared a fragment of Lucifer's soul.

Another piece of his wayward son had stayed with Samael throughout the remaking, showing itself as the bleed God had noticed before. Lucifer's immense love for Chloe had preserved him in that moment.

That part of him had _never_ truly been extinguished.

When Samael wore the ring, he recognized something familiar inside, and delved for it.

And the two fragments snapped together, linking all of Lucifer's long past, with the entirety of Samael's present.

They were now one.

His son was _restored._

The tears fell.

And Lucifer tsked.

Trixie's head shot up, her face wet with tears.

"Father. Is this really necessary? We were enjoying ourselves."

God as Trixie blinked furiously.

Samael - Lucifer - was looking down at him.

Unfrozen?

**HOW**

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

"Father, you invented sex. I do not think I have to explain how it is enjoyable."

Trixie shook her head quickly.

"No! How are you talking?!"

Lucifer smirked.

"You invented speech also... I am concerned - perhaps your omniscient mind is going?"

Then his face softened. Withdrawing from Chloe while still artfully shielding her with his wings, he stepped forward.

And sat in front of God.

"Hello, Father."

"Lucifer..." God squeaked as Trixie, "how are you doing this?"

His beautiful son smiled, then reached out to take Trixie's wounded hand.

And healed it with a bloom of light.

"With love, Father."

Trixie stared down at her hand, now completely whole in his, and back at her son.

Lucifer held onto her hand, and lifted eyes soft with peace to meet her own. "I am doing it with love."

Then he grinned, just a little wickedly.

"As in, I love myself too much to allow anyone else to control me."

God's eyes widened.

And as a young girl, he laughed.

A lot.

Finally, he decided to answer his own question, having gleaned it from the moment.

"You are using the energy of love as a barrier to my manipulations. You used the same to defeat the Third."

Lucifer smirked. "Is that not what I said?"

Trixie smiled at him, squeezing his hand in her own. "Not just your love for yourself, though, is it?"

His son's head tilted thoughtfully. "No. I feel it and draw it from everything, everywhere."

Trixie smirked. "That's me."

Lucifer smiled and shook his head. "No, Father. From every_one._ I am connected to everyone. Every single being here. I feel their love. I do not know how else to describe it."

Trixie yoinked on his hand. "That's _still_ me, silly! How many times do I have to say 'I am everything'?"

Lucifer simply smiled at him.

_Not anymore_

Frowning, she drew her hand back. "And now putting your thoughts into my mind. You have changed, Lucifer."

He looked at her without guile. "You can call me Samael, if you wish."

Trixie grinned, feeling like her twelve-year-old self. "Can I call you Sammy?"

"You may not."

"No fun."

The smile fell from her face, and she looked down at her healed hand.

No longer holding the wound she'd intended to keep.

"I am sorry, son."

Lucifer nodded. "Yes, I feel that."

"I'm sorry I did something so incredibly ignorant."

"You did not know."

God's human throat grew tight with the beginning of fresh tears, and he closed Trixie's eyes. "I'm sorry I did that to you. Caused you so much fear. I'm sorry I destroyed you."

Lucifer sighed.

"I am not."

Trixie's eyes snapped open.

"What?"

Lucifer propped his chin on his hands. "I am not sorry you destroyed the old Lucifer."

She reared back from him. "How could you possibly mean that?"

Lucifer smiled softly.

"Father, what was I able to do, as the newly reminted Samael, that I would never have been able to do as the old Lucifer? What one important thing?"

Trixie's eyes widened.

"Defeat the Third," she cried.

Of course! His words made more sense now.

She smiled, thankful that he had found some peace with the act.

Lucifer shook his head slowly.

"No, Father. Something far more important."

Trixie cocked a small eyebrow at him.

His thoughts were closed to her now - she couldn't glean the answer that way.

So she shrugged, lost.

Lucifer leaned back to stare at her. "For all of your talk of the small miracles, Father, you are quick to overlook the one most important to me."

His son stood then, wings sweeping wide, and walked back behind Chloe, placing a soft kiss upon her frozen temple.

And God understood then.

Feeling like the dumbest omniscient being to ever exist in any universe, he nodded.

"You were able to heal Chloe."

Lucifer smiled. "Yes, Father. She would have died in my arms if you had not done what you did... and that in itself would have destroyed me."

Closing his eyes, he looped his arms around her waist again. "And I would gladly be remade time and time again, if that meant her life were spared."

When he next opened his eyes, they were blazing.

"However, _Father,_ the next time the urge strikes to lock your romantic rivals into a _rock,_ I would ask that instead of forcing me to _wear_ it, you take that rock and shove it up your-"

"Sammy!" Trixie snapped over him. "I get the point!"

"Good," he said, the fires receding. "Then, Father, I forgive you. Now stop calling me Sammy, and restart reality please, I wish to resume this particular _conversation_ with Chloe."

With a small sigh, Trixie sat back against her legs. "He wasn't a romantic rival, you know."

"Whatever you must tell yourself. Reality please, Father?"

Trixie glared at him for a moment, before her expression softened.

"The Third... frightened me."

Lucifer frowned. "An odd thing for you to admit."

She nodded. "He was... unstable. His songs were exquisitely beautiful, but so full of chaos. I sensed in him the potential for glorious workings, but also the inability to strengthen and sustain them. I saw entire realities and civilizations extinguished in shuddering agony, not from within, but by his own careless hand."

Trixie looked down at her own hands.

"I didn't feel I had a choice. I was trying to protect the worlds that could have been. And then, honestly, I became so engrossed in everything I was doing in my own workings, I forgot I'd locked him away."

Lucifer made a noise somewhere between a sigh and groan.

And he left Chloe's side again to stand before Trixie.

He held out his hand.

Trixie grasped it, and he tugged her to her feet.

"Father," he said softly. "I am thankful I exist, I cherish the human race, and the worlds you have created are wondrous. But mother was right. You are a complete control freak. Chaos has always scared you. And while the Third may have laid waste to realities as you feared, he may also have surprised you. He may have created wonders far beyond your own, because he dared go outside of the rules on which you rely."

The smile he gave her was kind. "Chaos can be terrifying. It can certainly be destructive. I know I was. But chaos sometimes brings the most unexpected marvels to light. You negate those possibilities, reacting to it with such fear."

God looked up at his wonderful son with young eyes.

He was so proud.

"Do you think I should do it?" he asked, in Trixie's young voice.

The smile slipped as Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"I'm going to do it," Trixie said with a smile, and a little fear, but she squeezed Lucifer's hand hard, and that seemed to help.

"Father, what are you talking about?"

Trixie turned, to look out from the stage on which she stood, over the empty seats.

And she grinned.

This was so exciting!

"Father," Lucifer said in a low voice. "You are being enigmatic again. I have learned that good things do not always follow."

"I'm going to embrace chaos!" she cried, throwing her arms out wide. "I'm going to let them all write their _own_ futures!"

"Ah."

Lucifer was quiet for a moment.

"As long as I am not blamed if it goes poorly," he finally said, "I applaud you."

Trixie grinned. She turned back to look at Chloe.

Lucifer extended one of his wings to obscure her view.

"I just need to make a few... adjustments," she said, looking up at him.

"Father."

Trixie raised a hopeful eyebrow. "Minor adjustments?"

"Such as?"

Trixie started counting off on her small fingers. "Restore Dad's memory, restore Ella's memory, restore Sarah's memory, restore Mark's memory, restore Mrs. Harris' memory, resto-"

"Father, please spare me the litany of your individual manipulations. What of Chloe? What are your intentions with her?"

A soft smile lit Trixie's face. "She's my mom, and we're going to be a family again. But she can't know I'm God, so I'm going to fix that one little bit."

Lucifer stared at her sternly. "Do not think of removing that fact from my mind again."

Trixie squeezed his hand. "I won't, son. I'm going to do something really important instead."

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Trust you," she said, gently and proudly. "You'll know, and I won't. But you can't tell mom."

Lucifer smirked. "I have never liked the word 'can't', Father. You ask much."

"Please," God said, as the smile faded from Trixie's face. "I'll scare her if you don't, and she doesn't need that. I won't understand why, either, and I'm already in for a lot of therapy with all of the stuff I've seen as Trixie. I can't just erase it, either, because the Third stomped all over everything. This will be hard enough."

Releasing a soft sigh, Lucifer stared at her for a long while, then slowly nodded.

"Agreed."

"Yay!" Trixie yelled, jumping in place as she tugged on his hand. She was feeling very much like her old self again.

"Oh, and another thing."

"Yes?"

Grinning, Trixie stepped away from him, wrapping the last little layer of malleable reality around the barrier her son had created against her manipulations. Something she could grasp easily to do what needed to be done.

"No having sex in my school," she said, before waving enthusiastically. "Bye bye!"

And she whisked Chloe and Lucifer away to somewhere much more suitable.

* * *

_Hi everyone :) It's been lovely to read how much so many of you enjoyed the last few chapters :D I'm thrilled. I'm thrilled also that it seems I kept a little element of surprise until the end there, even though I felt it was important to reassure folks that Lucifer would be back._

_I hope this chapter goes some of the way to explaining how. _

_The story is not finished. I have, as always, a few more chapters to go. Will be writing tonight and tomorrow, hopefully that will get them done. Since they've just been reunited, I would like nothing more than ten more chapters of Deckerstar. :)_

_Thanks for reading! :D __I h__ope you all have a great weekend. :)_


	55. Overtly Protective

Chloe released a deep, contented breath and rolled over, hugging her pillow in to cradle her head just right, and snuggling into the deliciously warm cocoon of the down comforter. Above her, a skylight filled the space with a beautifully soft glow.

Bliss.

She was just starting to doze when the sound of violently gushing water and a shout jerked her rudely awake.

"WHAT!"

Frenzied thumping, the hurried slap of wet feet, and generous dripping followed.

"FATHER!"

Chloe jerked up in the bed, staring in confused shock at the bathroom door on the far side of the room - the Cliff House bedroom, that was three times the size of her old one, with hardwood floors and a fireplace and more ridiculousness she was only just starting to get used to.

"Lucifer?!"

The events of the last few days rushed her, leaving her scrambling to understand what had happened.

Because hadn't they just been...?

She stared around herself.

What happened to the school?! How was she here?

And why hadn't Lucifer answered?

"Are you okay?!" she called.

When no immediate answer came, she jumped from the bed and ran to the door, her bare feet slapping on the cool polished floorboards.

There was a deep sigh from the other side.

"I am fine, Chloe."

She yanked it wide open, her heart thumping in her chest.

Revealing a very soggy Lucifer, his wings bedraggled and soaked through, his hair a shaggy, plastered mess, dripping in long streams onto the black and white tiled floor.

"That was very cold," he said.

Chloe snorted, and quickly covered her mouth.

"Lucifer, how did you..." The question trailed off as she pointed at him, then back and forth between them both. "Why are we..."

Shaking her head at herself because he looked so utterly miserable, she turned around to grab a towel from the heated rack on the wall.

There was a flash of light behind her and the soft hiss of steam.

She twisted back with a little jump.

And Lucifer stood before her, completely and utterly dry, his wings resplendent, his gaze soft, the glow just fading from his skin.

Chloe grinned. "You've never done that before."

He tilted his head with a soft smile.

"I have never had a shower quite that cold before."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why did you? And why..." She gestured behind herself broadly, hoping to suggest everything strange as her mind reeled with the weirdness of the moment. "Weren't we in a school? How...?"

Lucifer stepped forward, stilling her words, and she smiled up at him as he closed the space.

His dark eyes traveled happily over her features, dipping to her smile and up. His hands, beautifully warm and so wonderfully familiar, circled her waist. Under his touch, her skin shivered, and she let out a happy sigh, looping her arms over his shoulders.

"What do you remember?" he asked, his eyes growing softer still, drifting to her lips.

"Mmm," she murmured, feeling little desire to talk.

But the question wormed its way in and would not let go.

"We were at the school, weren't we?" she asked, frowning.

"Yes," he breathed against the skin of her throat, as he dipped his head and kissed her there.

"We were..." she said, her words ending in a sigh, as his lips followed the curve of her throat to the soft dangling lobe of her ear and sucked there.

"Yes," he murmured, his breath hot against her cheek as his kisses grew ever nearer.

"But..." she said, and her mouth fell open, "then your Dad showed up!"

Lucifer made a small noise and dropped his head onto her shoulder.

"Yes," he said flatly.

Lifting then, he stared at her intently. "What do you remember of him?"

Mouth twisting, she negotiated the memory.

"He... wasn't happy. I think because we were about to have sex, in a school?"

She slapped a hand over her face. "That was really bad, I hope they didn't have any cameras around."

Lucifer grinned.

"And no, we can't check to see if they _did,_" snapped, poking at his chest.

He laughed. "That was not why I was smiling."

Laying her hand against his chest, and tracing his skin in lazy circles, she smirked back. "Then why?"

"Because you were enjoying it at the time," he answered. "And had little care either way."

Giggling, she drew her arms over his shoulders again, threading her fingers through his wiry hair.

"That's true."

Closing his eyes, he made a soft sound of pleasure as her fingertips traveled up his scalp to the crown of his head.

And she drew him down for a kiss.

But the tears rushed her eyes again as their lips met.

"I thought I'd lost you," she mumbled, dropping her head from the kiss as the tears grew heavier.

His arms wrapped around her protectively, and he stroked her back, simply holding her close as she cried.

"It was awful," she mumbled against his chest as the tears lessened. "All of it."

His chin rested against the crown of her head.

"It was."

Her heart ached. "That boy... he... he was still mine, wasn't he?"

Lucifer sighed.

"Physically, yes, he was ours. But as you wisely told me earlier, he was not truly our child. The body was a shell, created and accelerated in growth by a disgruntled god."

Chloe listened, her eyes fixed almost angrily on one particular tile on the far wall.

"That's so damn weird," she whispered. "How did my life get so weird?"

Lucifer laughed.

She looked up.

"By meeting me, I believe," he said softly. "Although I have learned that the celestial has played a part your existence since before you were born."

Chloe's eyes widened. "What?!"

His smile slipped.

"Ah. Perhaps that was one of the things I was not meant to mention."

There was a large, vibrantly terrifying sound, one that shook the fabric of the world around her. She grasped at her ears with a cry.

Lucifer sighed.

"Yes, Father, I do remember our agreement."

Chloe looked around the space, her heart thundering. "What was that?! I heard that back at the school? Was that God's voice?"

Lucifer nodded with a soft smile. "I believe he forgets how loud he is." He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. "Or how very intrusive!"

She frowned at him, her skin still sparking in shock from the sound.

From everything.

"What did you mean 'not to mention'?" she asked. "What's this 'agreement' you've got with your Dad?"

"I cannot say."

Her mouth went dry. "But it's about me?"

Lucifer released a heavy breath and nodded.

"Yes."

"Seriously, what is it?" she asked, her voice rising.

His gaze fell from her own. "I agreed that I would not tell you. I am not happy that I was asked to do this."

She glared at him.

"Well, that's great!" she snapped, pulling herself from his embrace. "Now I know you're keeping something from me, on purpose, that involves the creator of _everything,_ who's apparently been screwing around with my life since before I was born?! What am I supposed to do with that information?!"

Lucifer stared at her with eyes older than the Earth.

"Nothing," he said softly.

Jerking away from him, she stormed out of the bathroom, past the fireplace, and moved back to the bed to grab her PJs from under the pillow.

Her thoughts were scrambled.

She didn't know what to do or say about what she'd just learned.

And an awful thought slammed into her head as she was pulling on her top.

The sound of Lucifer's footsteps came across the floor behind her, as she turned, her face widening in fear.

"I am sorry, Chloe."

"Where's Trixie?"

His expression grew very quickly careful.

There was a long pause before he spoke.

"Where did you leave her last?" he asked, in an apparent attempt to be helpful, looking a little unsure about his choice of words.

Chloe shook her head at him, stared about herself for her phone, and looked past him down the hall leading to the living room.

"Monkey?!"

Something burbled melodically from the kitchen.

Her phone!

She rushed past Lucifer to the living room, flooded with sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows, and snatched her vibrating phone off the marbled kitchen counter.

Dan was calling?

"Hey, Dan," she said quickly, answering the call. "Uh..."

And it occurred to her, that the last time she'd seen Dan, he'd been totally okay leaving her cuffed to a hospital bed while thinking she was crazy.

"YOU SUCK!" she yelled, hanging up on him.

Then she stared down at her phone, and started stabbing the screen frantically to get back to her contacts.

"What am I doing?!"

He called again, and she took the call quickly, wincing against the screen. "Sorry, Dan, I was saying that to... the... um..." she flailed at the nearest object, "geranium!"

Wincing once more, she smacked the phone against her forehead.

Lucifer had just entered the room, now clothed in loose black pants, and stared at the plant and back as his brow raised in confusion.

Fire lit his eyes.

The geranium fell to ash.

He walked on into the sunlight.

"Oh my god!" Chloe shrieked, staring at the remains of the geranium, now a pile of ash in a pot. "My plant!"

"Chloe?! What's going on over there? Are you okay?!"

"I thought the plant did something wrong?" Lucifer said from across the room, turning as he stretched his incredible wings in the golden light. They grew even more brilliantly white, bouncing light throughout the entire space.

The sight snatched the thoughts from her mind, leaving her staring until Dan's insistent voice punched through.

"Chloe?! Where are you?!"

"Sorry, Dan, just a moment," and covering the bottom of the phone, she gestured at the once-geranium with her elbow. "How could it do anything wrong, Lucifer?! It's a _plant!_ My mom gave me that plant! Yes, Dan? I'm at the Cliff House, yeah, I'm fine, I... um..."

What was she supposed to say? How could she explain that a god, posing as the Antichrist, had kidnapped her and Trixie from the hospital?

Wouldn't that just put her back in cuffs?!

When she looked up again, Lucifer had returned to the plant.

His hands hovered over the pot, and the space was filled with a beautiful glow. When it receded, a tiny green tendril poked up through the ash.

He smiled down at it.

"My apologies. The human I love is very stressed and I am being overtly protective."

Chloe's heart jumped in her chest and she stared at him with soft eyes for a moment, before Dan's voice punched through again.

"Do you have Trixie, Chloe?!"

Her eyes bulged down at the phone.

At least Dan remembered their daughter now - but if he didn't have Trixie, where was her baby?!

"I..." she mumbled, staring at nothing then, her mind locked in shock.

Was her daughter still at the school!?

_Oh my god_

"Momma?"

The soft patter of footsteps followed the voice, and her daughter stepped out of the hall and into the living room, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing the pink top and jeans Chloe had seen her in last, on the stage, when...

...when...

...why was that bit fuzzy?

"Mom?" Trixie said, looking around herself in confusion, her eyes puffy. "How'd we get home?"

Lucifer clapped at Trixie twice, very slowly.

When Chloe's gaze snapped to him in shock, he pointed at the plant and clapped once more.

"I am very happy your geranium has pulled through."

Frowning at him, Chloe rushed forward to embrace her daughter, who'd just turned back from mouthing something she didn't quite catch at Lucifer.

Trixie grabbed her tightly. "Mom, you're okay?!"

Tears flooded her eyes as Chloe held her not-so-small baby tight. "Oh, monkey, I'm wonderful. You're here now, and everything is perfect."

"This will be harder than I thought," Lucifer said quietly, before walking away again. His voice followed soon after, answering the phone as Chloe basked in how good everything felt with Trixie back in her arms.

"Dan? ...Yes, I suppose I have returned from my trip home. Trixie is here. Do not worry. Also, I am sorry about your head."

There was another small pause.

"Ah, you do not remember that? Then I retract my apology for what you do not remember me doing to your head. Next time, do not be stupid enough to point a gun at mine. Goodbye."

A mangled, tinny voice followed sharply, before the phone was replaced on the kitchen counter.

"Promising," Lucifer murmured, before walking away.

With a worried smile, Chloe pulled her daughter back and stared into Trixie's puffy eyes.

Had she been crying?

"Monkey, do you remember what happened at the school?"

Her daughter shrugged, and rubbed her eyes again. "A little? Everything is kind of blurry."

Chloe brushed her daughter's cheek reassuringly. "Yeah, for me too. Try not to dwell too hard on it right now, okay? If you remember anything that scares you, or makes you feel bad, you'll let me know, yeah? We'll face it together."

Trixie nodded with a small smile. "I will, mom. Is Dad okay?"

She smiled. "Yeah, monkey, Dad is fine. He was really worried about you, but he's okay now."

Her daughter's smile grew. "That's good." Her gaze slipped away to where Lucifer had gone and quickly darted back. "I'm glad we're home, mom."

And she dived forward to give Chloe another big hug.

"Oh, Trixie, me too."

She held her daughter for a long time, eyes closed, feeling a wonderful sense of peace.

"I love you, monkey."

"I love you too, mom," her daughter whispered, squeezing her tight. "More than you'll ever know."

Chloe stared over her daughter's shoulder, her brow furrowing slightly.

Trixie had never spoken to her like that before.

Was it the shock of what had happened?

Or was she just growing up?

Trixie pulled away with a grin, easing her concern, and walked to the fridge.

"Can I have rest of the chocolate cake in here?" she asked, pulling the door open and smiling hopefully.

Smirking, Chloe stood, and leaned over the counter with a little laugh.

"What do you think?"

Trixie grinned again. "That I _can_ have the rest of the chocolate cake?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, _you_ can't have the rest of the chocolate cake."

"Aww," Trixie sighed, slowly closing the door.

Chloe grinned.

"But _we_ can."

Her daughter yanked it open again, grinning from ear to ear. "Yay!"

The cake was plonked on the counter, the lid ripped off, and mother and daughter dived in.

"Lucifer?" Chloe called, feeling a little guilty for how she'd reacted before. "Did you want some cake?"

He walked back from the windows slowly, frowning.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked. She reached for him. "Hey, I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"You were confused and scared, Chloe. I understand," he murmured, shaking his head. "That is not what is troubling me. I have remembered a terrible mistake. I must rectify it, immediately."

Turning from the counter, her heart sinking in her chest, Chloe stood to grasp his hand. "You're leaving? But... I only just... found you again..." She weaved her fingers through his own. "Where do you have to go?"

His gaze lifted, soft and warm. Pressing in, cradling her cheek, he closed his lips against hers and kissed her.

"I will be back as soon as I can. I promise."

"What happened, Lucifer?" she asked, searching his eyes. "What did you do?"

His expression grew stricken.

"I have hurt my oldest friend."

With a rush of his great wings, he was gone.

* * *

_Hi everyone! :) Sorry for the wait. These chapters will be a few days apart I think, until the fic is done. Not too many chapters to go... theoretically. XD_

_Hmmmm, I WONDER where we're going next? ;)_

_Thanks for reading. Hope you'll leave a comment if you have the inclination. :) _

_Hope everyone is doing well too. The sunshine is lovely here today - wish I could package it and send it to you all._


	56. Tendency for Violence

Lucifer drifted down through the dimensional layers that thickened at the portal into Hell, and fell silently through, aware of his brother's tendency for violence, and having absolutely no interest in engaging.

Not because he feared his brother.

Michael could no longer wound him unless he allowed it, and any damage done would cease to exist in the next moment.

No.

The idea wearied him.

It was such a worthless exercise, fueled by his brother's misguided focus on conflict.

Michael had not always been so. His brother had once been a beacon of love, very much as Lucifer felt himself now, though worry and the transition to Hell had dimmed that incredible connection somewhat.

Then, as their father's attentions had turned away, to play in the great universe they had all had some small part in creating, Michael did as Lucifer, and other siblings, had done.

He acted out.

Where Lucifer had turned his gaze to the denizens of a new world, seeking satisfaction with such small interactions, Michael had taken to hitting things.

Anything.

And found he was very good at it.

Each blow was an act of joy, each battle gave him what he craved - attention and a sense of grand accomplishment.

Michael looked for his father's approval with every conquest, and received it, for father had appreciated his strength.

Lucifer sighed, dropping through the ash.

Their own battle had father's complete favor, and its resolution his blessing.

And Lucifer still remembered how much it hurt to Fall.

And he would never forget looking up into the eyes of the demon who would save him, when he defiantly shared his name in terrible pain.

_I don't care_

Lucifer's eyes grew molten, and he refocused on his task, allowing the harder memories to slide from his skin.

If Michael had hurt Maze, there would be... a conversation.

It would be very short.

Though that was not fair.

After all, Michael had not dragged Mazikeen down to Hell.

_He_ had.

Frowning deeply, he sank to where the throne should have been.

And hovered there for a long moment, shaken.

The space was as familiar to him as an inward breath. He should have been able to turn, and lower himself against the hard stone seat.

It should have BEEN here.

The absence pulled him from his inward thoughts, and Lucifer truly took in the entirety of his old realm.

Fire engulfed his body - a defense against what did not make sense.

What had Michael done?

Nothing was the same!

There were no cells!

The damned mingled with the Lilim with little care, when they should have been locked away by their own guilt, enduring endless torment!

What had happened here?!

The time for a quiet entrance was gone.

The fires about him roared as he grew as bright as a star, casting stark shadows from every structure and figure against the ash laden ground.

The shadows lengthened as he lowered, his voice booming over the entirety of the space.

**MICHAEL!**

Below was a new throne. Shielded by a lattice of sharpened stone protrusions.

How had he done this?! What power did Michael have that would allow him to reshape an entire realm?!

Lucifer's blazing feet touched the new path to the throne chamber, dissolving the stone to liquid.

He continued along the path, his feet hissing against the stone, until he faced the throne.

Empty.

No longer made of blocky hexagonal extrusions, but formed of grandly sweeping basalt, the throne's embedded crystals sparkled in the light he cast.

It was quite... _beautiful._

His roaring cloak dimmed to flickering flames as he reached out to the arm, an errant thought rising that he could sit and claim it again.

It had been taken from him, in a way, after all.

"What are _you_ doing here," a voice growled behind him.

_Mazikeen!_

Stunned relief rushed through him - smiling without even meaning to, Lucifer turned.

Only to be hit by something incredibly hard, that slammed him back into the chamber wall with enough force to break it.

He was stunned for only a moment - enveloped by light, glowing like a rising sun, he stood once more, restored.

And was promptly punched in the face.

Lucifer staggered - the force behind the blow had been immense, and he looked up, expecting his grinning brother.

But Michael hadn't punched him.

_Mazikeen_ had.

She stood before him, wearing her old armor, only refashioned with the same weaving tines he had seen over this new Hell.

Did that mean... this was _her _Hell?

Had she somehow claimed the throne?

His voice was soft with wonder as he straightened to face her.

"Mazi-"

With no warning at all and too swiftly to track, she kicked him in the chest.

The blow sent him crashing into the wall again, and through, plowing through the thick ash on the other side.

Grimacing with a sudden rush of pain, struggling to draw in a breath, Lucifer took to the air, his great wings whipping up blinding ash, and began to glow like the heart of a dwarf star.

A spear of obsidian, razor sharp, sliced through the barrier of expanding heat and cleaved through the meat and bone of his left wing, severing the limb.

With a cry, he fell, landing awkwardly, and blazed again, regenerating swiftly what was lost. The reformed wing arched, new feathers spreading in a spray of white light, just as another spear tore into his right shoulder, twisting him around.

Turning back with a grunt, he wrenched the spear free and dissolved it.

"I am not here to fight, Mazikeen!"

A thunderous blow caught him against the temple, and he fell once more.

And Mazikeen stood above him, holding another spear.

The point hovered over his heart.

"You do not _belong_ here, _angel,_" she growled, her eyes dark.

Lucifer searched them.

He could not see his friend anywhere within.

"Mazikeen, I was not myself," he said quickly. "I was-"

His oldest friend thrust the spear down through his chest.

Before the point could pierce the skin of his heart, Lucifer _exploded._

The weapon was instantly evaporated. Mazikeen was launched backwards, flying through the air before slamming into the broken wall.

Staggering to his feet, Lucifer healed the wound, his hand clutched over his chest, his mouth twisted in a hurt that had little to do with the physical damage she had caused.

**I WAS NOT MYSELF!** he roared, launching a storm of ash and scouring dirt towards the wall and the chamber it formed. **I WAS A FOOL!**

Mazikeen pulled herself from the rubble.

"I DON'T CARE!" she roared back, standing stiffly, her hands squeezed into fists at her sides. "YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!"

The ground beneath his feet began to shake.

Lucifer was reeling. Mazikeen had earnestly tried to kill him. Not the first time, of course, but the first time she had come that close in many, many centuries.

And the power she was displaying was disturbing. Wielding Hell itself as a weapon? He had never done that as its ruler!

He had not known _how._

Jagged spires broke the ground at his feet - thrusting up as sharp as blades in sparkling crystal and deadly obsidian.

He rose out of their reach, and rose again as they thrust violently higher as if in pursuit.

And a volley of spears flew through the air towards him, with no origin he understood.

Pulsing in radiant, roaring flame, Lucifer liquefied the majority.

But more followed.

"I am sorry," he whispered, his heart clenching in his chest, his glowing eyes tight with pain as he stared down at the demon he had once known as a lover and a friend.

Turning, he flew from the realm he used to call his own.

And the cheers of a multitude rose behind him.

Celebrating the victory of their Queen.

* * *

_So... that happened._

_There I was, expecting a bit of a tussle, but a joyful reunion of sorts. Perhaps some Michael goofiness._

_But no. Mazikeen had a bone to pick. A very large, pointy bone. And she picked it very violently. Kinda peak Maze, really._

_I've written the next (smaller chapter) with Michael and Mazikeen in the aftermath. I may post it tonight, or I may see how the chapter after that goes first._

_Regardless, sorry about the wait. I have been very down, and very busy, and that's not a great combo for writing %)_

_I hope you're all doing well though :) Thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you're able. (I'm guessing I'll be seeing lots of 'wtf?!')_


	57. Who I Used To Be

_**NOTE: This is the second chapter I've added tonight. Be sure to read 'Tendency For Violence' first.**_

_So, um. I promise that all will eventually be well :) I will not leave things in such a state for Mazikeen. This chapter doesn't fix things, but we'll soon see how it resolves._

_Brightly, I think. Have a good night!_

* * *

Michael emerged from the bedchamber, into the raining ash and flat lighting of another Hellish day.

Yawning, scratching his chest and stomach in broad, sloppy strokes, he took stock of a strange shift in the air.

Something... was different.

He tapped his lip thoughtfully, and then smiled, thinking of what he was learning to do with those lips, and excited about what he might do next, if the Queen was agreeable.

Then the wall across the chamber caught his eye.

Slightly more crumbly than usual.

But swiftly reforming as he watched, until it was restored to its usual grey, curved, impressive height.

Michael stretched then, extending his arms, then his wings, before beating the air vigorously and resettling them at his back.

And he strode in long, confident steps, to the throne room.

What adventures of the flesh would they explore today? There were so many possibilities, and every single one tantalizing.

And always at the end, the brilliant release and descent into unknowing sleep.

_Lovely_

She'd mentioned a few times that it would be good if he could perhaps not fall asleep _every single time,_ but he'd tried his best to explain that he'd never slept before these moments and that he craved the truly wonderful break from the press of everything he'd been experiencing for eons.

She had not been that impressed, honestly, suggesting it was instead a 'lack of stamina'.

But, being himself, such a thing was clearly _not_ possible.

Finally reaching the throne, Michael gave a gracious bow - something he knew she enjoyed greatly - before rising to face her.

"My Queen, how did you wish... to..."

Michael stopped and stared.

Mazikeen was not looking at him. She sat back against the throne, her gaze fixed on where the wall had been damaged.

And the demon's eyes were wet. A line of glistening salt water trailed down one cheek.

Her mouth was a thin, forced line.

"You are crying?"

She did not look at him. Her eyes closed slowly, and new paths were laid by the tears that had been held there.

"No," she said.

Michael stared at her.

Then he pointed, helpfully.

"There is water coming from your face. I have seen you do this before. You were certainly crying then, and you cry now."

Rolling her eyes, she focused on him.

She looked terribly hurt.

Michael smiled.

"You are the only demon I have ever known who sheds tears. I find that fascinating."

Her mouth twisted, and her gaze slipped away to the wall again.

Apparently his words had not been of comfort.

Perhaps he could do better?

"Why do you cry, my queen?" he asked.

A very good start!

They would likely have sex again, now, would they not?

"Samael came back," she said flatly, not bothering to look his way.

"Really?" He stared at the portal beyond the weaved tines over the throne. "I am sorry I missed that! Did you fight? Is that why the wall was broken?"

Mazikeen did not move or blink. "I almost killed him."

Michael nodded. "I am not surprised. You are an exceptional warrior. If you catch someone off guard, their death is imminent."

He expected a smile from that, but her gaze simply dropped.

"He must have been quite surprised by your station, I suspect," he continued, determined to win some change in her demeanor. "Hell was not intended for the base Lilim to rule."

A clawed hand clamped tightly around his neck.

He was lifted from his feet, as Mazikeen stood, squeezing his throat ever harder.

When he attempted to kick and punch his way free, she merely batted his attacks aside.

"You... are... not... a base... Lilim..." he squeaked out, with effort, clawing at her fingers.

Realizing that perhaps that distinction should have been made before.

"The _Lilim_ are not BASE, angel," she growled. "Agree, or I'll bathe the stone at my feet with your blood."

It took a great deal of internal negotiation for Michael to do so, as everyone knew that demons _were_ base, and simply saying it was not so did not make that true.

Her threat was real enough, he knew that. The mood she was in was not one he wished to press.

Perhaps he could nod to something else? Such as the fact that Hell was hot?

He did so.

She dropped him.

Pulling himself up, rubbing at his throat while admiring her strength, he snatched at her hand as she made to walk past.

And he smiled.

"Another tryst, my Queen?" he asked in a mangled voice, with great hope.

Mazikeen stared back, her brow furrowed deeply, before pulling her hand away.

Her voice carried an odd weight when she spoke.

"You remind me of who I used to be."

Michael's smile grew.

"A compliment, I believe?"

Reaching for his cheek, she brushed there as her eyes searched his own.

And she shook her head, her eyes growing wet once more.

Before she walked away.


	58. The Deal

_Hello! Long time no post! It would have been better to have finished this story BEFORE the premiere of Season 5a... but it just didn't happen that way. :) Sorry!__ I'm still writing to finish it and hope to have it done soon. It's completely AU now, sadly (as it was always going to be anyway ;)_

_Speaking of Season 5 - oh my god, I loved it :D And I'll not mention one moment, because spoilers. Well, okay, I'm caving to mention one moment in a round about way because it's in the trailer for the season. The scene with the car. My god, that was just so incredible and would have been perfect if it had only been... someone else._

_To catch everyone up (SPOILERS if you haven't read anything else of this story, turn back now!) - Chloe and Lucifer go camping, end up having a ton of sex and spawning the anti-Trixie, who steals Lucifer's immortality. A bullet steals his sense - leading to a strange encounter with two idiots and Bigfoot (who hates that name) - and later, his life, thanks to Remiel. Chloe ends up in hospital as does Lucifer's ghost, after a brief visit to Heaven. Hi-jinks of a messy kind ensue. Lucifer is undone, Samael is remade, the Anti-Trixie is born and starts taking out his frustrations on an innocent cafe, Amenadiel, Charlie and Linda, a bus load of peeps, and finally reality, as attempts to stop him fail and he kidnaps God, forcing Him to forget who He is. Samael attempts to stop him, and has a new Fall. Chloe somehow stops him from dying, and within a mindscape of his own making, he reconciles who he is and the sins of his predecessor's past to become an incredibly powerful being of light and love who stops the Third (Anti-Trixie). The Goddess (the First), Trixie (God, the Second) and the diminished Third (any musicians out there?) have a meeting of minds, and cosmic fists, and the Third is almost destroyed, saved at the last minute by the Goddess who shows Trixie how to rewrite the scrolls she'd tied to every soul damaged by the Third, before leaving with him. Lucifer's scroll was destroyed, Chloe can't accept he won't be coming back, and Trixie gives her the choice to forget. She finally decides to, before handing Lucifer's ring to Samael, and triggering the connection of the soul fragment trapped in the ring, and the fragment enmeshed with Samael's being, which brings Lucifer back. Lucifer immediately decides they must have sex, on a school stage, behind a curtain, and God returns, heartbroken, only to find them enjoying the lively 'conversation' and realizing with shock that Lucifer is back - that he and Samael are one. God decides to embrace chaos, admits he has to make some adjustments to Chloe's memories, and shoots Lucifer and Chloe back home - she to a warm bed, he to a Arctically cold shower. An agreement had been struck, and Chloe learns about it, but not what it entails, and she leaves angrily then looks for her daughter, only to yell at Dan over the phone, and at her plant, which is promptly turned to ash by Lucifer. It's soon resurrected, Trixie appears, multiple hugs ensue, and Lucifer realizes he'd left Maze in Hell. He flies there to rectify the mistake only to be shown who the ruler really is as Maze almost kills him. He leaves in sorrow and regret and no small amount of shock. Michael awakens from a much cherished slumber, and offers the clumsiest of comforts to a grieving Mazikeen after the battle, who simply looks down at him in pity and walks away._

_And here we are._

* * *

Chloe woke with a start.

The room was very dark, the night very deep.

Instinctively, her hand sought for Lucifer's warm body beside her, but she caressed only cool, empty sheets.

Not back yet.

She stared at the faint outline of her hand, imagining him in the space. Remembering all the moments he'd been there, laughing at her mock attempts to be sexy. Watching her with a soft smile when she woke.

_I almost lost him._

A stabbing grief chased the thought. Grief that wasn't necessary, wasn't warranted. It was irrational. But it hurt immensely for a moment, as she stared at the empty space.

She released a slow breath, trying to let it go.

It was okay now. Lucifer had come back. He was whole again.

Mostly.

There was still something odd there, though she couldn't quite place it. Something that spoke more of Samael than Lucifer.

But he was alive again. That's all that mattered.

Chloe had stayed up for hours, determined to be there for him when he returned. And determined not to panic or worry about where he'd gone.

She'd managed to fail at both - she worried constantly, drinking a little too much wine, and the insane stress of the last few days had finally caught up to her, forcing her to bed.

She'd passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Now her mouth tasted like a t-shirt because she hadn't bothered to clean her teeth, and a dull ache had settled in her left temple.

She sat up and took a sip of water, and her eyes settled on Trixie's door halfway down the hall.

Trixie had grown a little quiet after Lucifer left, but kept looking for every excuse to give Chloe another hug.

It had been lovely, but also a little worrying.

Her daughter seemed to be the focus of that child... man... Antichrist, god, _whatever_ thing's anger. And while Trixie said she couldn't remember everything he'd said or done, he'd _killed_ people in front of her.

He'd killed _Mark_ in front of her.

That was horrible.

Her eyes swam with tears. She wiped at them as they spilled free.

It was all horrible.

She was really worried about the scars this had left on her little girl.

Who wasn't so little anymore.

Chloe released a soft sigh, and finally pulled herself out of bed, way too thoughtful to slip back to sleep now.

At least her entire precinct didn't think she was crazy anymore. She'd tried to ask Dan about what'd happened back at the hospital, but he didn't remember anything about her being locked to a bed.

Which was good, but also... strange.

Memories were being changed everywhere it seemed. Everyone knew that a natural disaster had hit, and a ton of people had died, but when they took stock, there wasn't much damage at all, and the neighbor they'd seen being sucked up into a tornado had come out to greet them with a smile a few hours later.

Her memories had been played with. She knew that. But she still remembered the awful stuff in the hospital. Ella's reaction was still raw in her mind. Chloe wasn't sure how she'd face her friend when she next went into work.

And on top of all of that... there was the _agreement._

Lucifer's agreement with _God._

About her.

How was she supposed to feel about that?

Honored? Special?

She didn't.

She felt like a toy a child plays with.

Chloe frowned, tilting her head slightly as she peeked in on Trixie. Her daughter was sleeping soundly - her breaths slow and deep.

She'd had a conversation about that with God, hadn't she? About people being toys?

She remembered talking about it, but... the memory was a little hazy.

Chloe closed the door and stared down at the handle, realizing something important.

Hazy.

Hazy meant _edited._

"Hmm," she murmured, still staring down at her hand.

She could work with that. Analyze what was there, where it jumped, and work out, perhaps, what had been taken.

And why?

Because, sure, she was just a human, and pretty low on the whole celestial chain.

But she was also a cop. A detective who solved things.

She could solve this.

And she didn't give a crap about anybody's agreement.

Chloe smiled.

It felt good to claim back a little control. In the morning she'd grab a notepad and scribble down everything she remembered. Start there and see what that led to.

Decision made, she felt a little weight ease off her shoulders, and rolled them as she stepped from the hallway into the kitchen, pondering a snack.

The clock on the oven gave a bright blue announcement of the time.

4:52 AM

With the sight came a bloom of worry.

Why wasn't he back yet?

Was he okay?

Clutching the cup she'd filled at the sink, she turned to rest against the counter and stare out over a bright LA skyline.

And there, sitting at the very edge of the deck, silhouetted by the sparkling lights, was Lucifer.

His wings were in.

That was odd. He hadn't pulled them in since coming back to life.

Chloe grabbed a tumbler, dribbled in a finger of scotch, and walked to the sliding door.

She watched him for a moment through the glass.

He was very still, staring out over the city.

Perhaps she shouldn't bother him?

_I know you are there, Chloe._

Jerking back, she almost tipped the scotch over the floor, then stared out the door in disbelief.

It wasn't like she'd never heard his voice in her head before. He'd spoken to her in their playful and sometimes mundane prayers to each other, and when he'd been dead.

_Awful._

But, never quite like that? Just out of the blue? As if he could read her mind?

Tentatively, she pulled the door open. The faint sounds of the city washed over her with a warm breeze.

"I apologize," he said, still facing the view. "I did not mean to startle you."

Smiling softly, she walked up beside him.

"I didn't know you could do that."

His eyes were searching the city. His expression didn't change.

"I am only now able to," he said quietly. "Since..."

Nodding, she nudged his shoulder with the glass. "Here."

Lucifer smiled up at her before taking it.

"Thank you."

He put it off to the side and returned to his view of the city.

Frowning, Chloe sat down, threading her fingers through his own.

"How long have you been out here?" she asked, hugging his side.

He smiled at the view. "A little while."

She tugged on his arm. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Lucifer turned to look at her, his eyes darker than the night itself.

He looked a little sad.

"I did not wish to disturb you. You were sleeping peacefully. And I wanted to think."

She smiled, squeezing in closer. "And how is the thinking going?"

Smirking, he looked back at the city. "Pitifully. I believe I am currently wallowing."

Lucifer plucked the glass up from his side and brought it to his mouth, in a gesture Chloe was very used to.

But he sniffed the liquid before tipping it back, and frowned.

Grimacing, he put the glass back down.

Chloe watched it all with concern.

Tilting his head to her, Lucifer's mouth twisted in a way that was utterly familiar.

"New body, Chloe. Not quite used to the old libations yet."

"Oh."

Feeling bad for forcing scotch on him, she tried to remember what was in the fridge.

"Do you want... uh... chocolate milk? I can get you orange juice? Water? Iced tea?"

When she tried to stand up, his hand closed over hers. He guided her back down with a small laugh.

Chloe smiled. It was so good to hear him laugh.

"You are here," he said softly, drawing her in again. "That is enough."

She grinned up at him, seeing the faintest embers burning in his eyes where there'd been darkness before.

His lips were curled in the smallest smile.

But he was still sad.

"What happened?" she asked, lifting her fingers to his cheek, feeling for the old stubble where she knew there wasn't any, as she gently stroked his skin.

His eyes closed, and opened slowly.

The embers within burned brighter.

Chloe smiled. She loved that she could see his desire like that.

"I had hoped to undo a mistake I had made," he said, his gaze falling away. "But it did not go well."

Her smile fell.

"Lucifer," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded, drawing her hand to his mouth for a kiss, before threading his fingers through hers and dropping it to his lap. "As am I."

"Did you want to talk about it?" she asked, resting her chin against his shoulder as she pressed in close.

He shook his head slightly at the city, with the faintest smile.

"No. I have no desire to trouble you with it."

"Mmm," she hummed softly, studying his profile. "It's no trouble. I'm here to listen. That's part of the deal."

He tilted his head to stare at her. "The deal?"

She nodded, grinning. "When you love someone, you share in the good moments and the bad. That's the deal."

The smile came again, nearer his eyes.

"That is a good deal."

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, and waited.

But he only watched her fondly, his gaze travelling to her lips, her eyes, her brow.

Chloe smirked. "You're not going to tell me about it, are you."

His smile grew softer as he slowly shook his head. "I am not. It would only scare you."

Frowning, pulling from his shoulder, she stared back and forth between his dark eyes. "Scare me? Why? What happened?"

Lucifer's warm hand clasped the side of her face, and he kissed her.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed against him, threading her fingers through his hair as his soft lips pressed deliciously against her own. She returned the kiss just as eagerly, shifting to press closer, as his hands lowered to wrap around her completely.

Then she jerked back to stare at him with narrowed eyes.

"Wait a minute... you're trying to distract me."

Grinning, he angled forward to catch her mouth in another kiss.

"Yes," he breathed against her lips, "and myself."

With a soft sound, Chloe surrendered, straddling Lucifer as he pulled her over himself, their breaths mingling, the kiss growing deep and urgent. Cradling his head, she sighed against his ear as his lips traveled the line of her jaw and down to the hollow of her throat.

His kisses drifted lower, pressing insistently against her skin through the jersey nightie she wore, as his hands slid under the fabric, roaming and kneading the warm skin of her back.

"I think... I like distractions..." she murmured, as he rolled her top up over her shoulders and played against her naked skin with his tongue.

Chuckling, he stripped the top from her completely as she tugged at his pants, her breaths turning to needful gasps.

He fell back against the deck, drawing her over him, and swiftly freed himself as their lips meshed once more, the kisses fast and hungry, their breaths hot against the other's skin.

She engulfed him completely - groaning, he turned, rolling above her, before his wings unfurled with a snap, luminescent against the night sky.

And with great sweeping strokes, he pulled them up into the darkness, where the stars sparkled around them like diamonds and the milky way shimmered - a grand, never-ending river of light.

Joined, separated and joined again, they made love in the stars until the sun burst over the horizon, bathing them in rays of brilliant gold.


	59. Missing Something

Trixie leaned back for leverage as she pulled the sliding door open, and walked out onto the deck.

She looked up, at the two figures far, far, far above, glowing in the rising light of the day.

"Ewww."

Looking down again, at the sun peeking over the horizon, she released a forced breath.

"I have to go back to Hell," she said, to nobody in particular.

She rolled her eyes and slumped her shoulders. "_Again._"

This was _not_ going to go well.

Walking back into the house, she headed for the refrigerator. She needed supplies. Something bracing for the journey and trials ahead.

She pulled out a six-pack of Coconut Water and a chocolate milk box. Freeing the straw, she rammed it into the hole, and so armed, stepped backwards.

Into Hell.

Ash rained over her softly. The smell was bitter, the air baking.

The ground shuddered under her every step, clearly unhappy with her presence.

Little surprise.

She stepped up to the first damned soul she found - a man who'd killed his wife over a broken bowl, who was trying to teach his demon friend how to play cards. They were seated together on some rocks, before a boulder of a table.

The cards were made of old leather.

The human skin kind.

The man's eyes widened.

"Little miss," the man said in German, "you shouldn't be here."

The demon grinned. "Haven't seen a wee one for ages. What fun!"

Raising his hand against his demonic friend's chest, the man shook his head. "No, we don't hurt people anymore, remember?"

"Oh," the demon muttered. "Right. What's your story then?"

Trixie looked past them to where the throne used to stand. When she spoke it was without much care.

"I'm God. I'm trying to find my best friend so I can take her home."

The demon's mouth spread in a bigger grin, filled with sharp teeth. "You're God, huh?"

Smiling, she looked back at him. "Yes, Trajeer, I am."

The grin fell, and the Lilim stared at her, slack jawed. "How'd you know my name?"

"Didn't she say, you idiot?" the man next to him said, tugging his clawed hand for his attention. "Now, stop poking the bear, get back to your hand."

Trixie smirked. "You're cheating, Nicholas. Put the ace back in the deck."

The man's face paled dramatically and his gaze swung to the demon in alarm. Quickly he tugged the stiff leather rectangle - a black 'A' scribbled on its grainy surface - out of his sleeve and shoved it into Trajeer's hand.

"There you go, friend. I was holding it for you."

A small bead of sweat fell down his temple.

Trixie smirked and walked away as the demon roared, knocking the leather cards from the stone, and launched himself at the damned soul.

"Imma kill you five times over now!"

"Scheisse!"

Wet noises followed.

And screaming.

Trixie walked on, blowing the ash out of her hair when it got too thick, and sipping occasionally on her chocolate milk.

She met a few more damned souls, relaxing and chatting amongst themselves, as demons played some kind of sport before them.

Looked like a weird take on baseball, except that the ball was a rock the size of a basketball and the bat the thick trunk of old tree.

She sat with the souls for a minute to watch, and clapped when one of the demons hit the stone too far to track.

Then she turned to the souls enjoying themselves.

Anna had poisoned her roommate so she could claim the girl's grieving boyfriend, Musaf had torched a dog for fun, and Peter had driven his car through a crowd while drunk.

Trixie smiled, and they smiled uncertainly back.

"You're really young," Anna said. "What did you do to get stuck here?"

"I made a mistake," Trixie said. "Like you all did. Only I didn't make it on purpose. Like you all did."

Peter smirked. "Well, aren't you all judgy. Scat, kid. Go find someone else to bother."

"Okay," she said agreeably, taking another sip of her chocolate milk as she stood.

She walked over to the batsman. "Hurde?"

Hurde turned, and looked down at her with both of his scaly heads.

"Yes, young one?" his thin mouths said in unison.

Trixie pointed at the group watching them.

"They'd like to be punished. They really miss it."

The demon's mouths pulled back in a reptilian grin. His golden eyes flicked to the group and back, widening in excitement at the thought. "Really?"

Sipping from her chocolate milk, Trixie nodded. "Yup."

"Oh, thank Lilith," he sighed, holding up a hand to wave the other players in. "We've been so bored."

"I know," she said with a smile, and she walked on as the sound of screaming and crushing bone filled the air behind her.

There was so much to fix here. Nothing was working right. She met more carefree souls and distracted Lilim, and quickly set them to the tasks of suffering and punishing again.

It was soothing to set things straight.

Finally, she reached the new throne, and walked up the stone path to the throne chamber, and its beautiful seat.

Where Michael sat unclothed, sprawled and snoring.

**SON**

Michael jerked up, spluttering. He swiftly stood to his feet, his wings snapping out wide.

He looked down at her.

**Father!?**

His eyes widened.

**I remember now... This is the form you wore when you first sent me to rule Hell!**

Trixie nodded. Her eyes grew dark.

"How did you let this happen?"

When he opened his mouth to answer, she shook her head. "Nevermind. I already know now."

Michael hung his head. "I am sorry, Father, I made a gesture I did not expect to stand. Soulless Lilim cannot rule Hell - I do not understand how she took the throne."

"It's not your fault, Michael," she said with a sigh. "It's mine. I'm glad you've slept well."

Smiling widely, he nodded enthusiastically. "It is a wonderful thing, Father!"

Nodding, she gave him a small smile. "It's time for you to go, Michael. You don't have to be here anymore."

He stared at her, clearly uncertain. "Are you sure? Mazikeen seems to enjoy this appendage," he gestured down at himself. "And our interactions have been most stimulating, and the sleep fantastic, so perhaps-"

Trixie shook her head. "No, son. You are done here. I wish you to go somewhere new."

Michael raised a perfect eyebrow at her. "Oh?"

Taking a sip of chocolate milk, she nodded. "Yeah. You're missing something."

Both brows raised. "And what is that?"

"Empathy."

Michael snorted.

"And what use is that? To feel what another feels when they are not your feelings? Why twine yourself with another so?"

"You'll see. Bye bye!"

He vanished.

Trixie smirked.

She should probably stop doing that to her kids.

Her heart grew heavy.

It was time.

She oriented in space, turning to where Mazikeen had gone, and took a step forward, crossing leagues in a moment.

Mazikeen stood at the edge of a bluff, looking out over the Plain of the Buried. Damned souls had been planted in this great stretch of land, and disturbing things had grown from the soil. Writhing eyes, branching limbs, leaves of skin. When the ash storms stirred the ground in a frenzy the land screamed and moaned and sobbed.

Something was happening below.

Trixie frowned.

The flora was sinking back into the soil, and human limbs, properly attached to human torsos, topped with human heads, were clawing their way free of the dirt, gasping.

"You're screwing everything up," Trixie muttered, crossing her small arms.

Mazikeen turned to her, eyes wide.

"TRIXIE?!" her friend cried, sweeping forward to gather her in a hug.

God smiled softly and hugged her back, wishing the moment wouldn't turn, but knowing it would.

The demon stiffened.

And slowly pulled back.

"No..." Mazikeen whispered, her eyes wide. "You're..."

"Yeah," Trixie said softly, holding up a six-pack of Coconut Water. "Here. I brought you this."

Mazikeen stepped back further, her body rigid. Her hands closed to fists at her sides. Her wide eyes were terribly spooked.

Trixie frowned and lowered the six-pack slowly.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to be afraid of me."

"Why... why are you here," Mazikeen whispered.

Trixie smiled hopefully. "To bring you back home!"

Her best friend's brow furrowed.

"Why do you look like Trixie? Like my friend?"

Trixie's smile grew lopsided. She could feel the slight gap between her two front teeth as she spoke.

"Because I am Trixie?"

Mazikeen shook her head slowly.

"No, you're not. You're the Maker."

Trixie smiled gently. It'd been a long while since she'd been called that.

She nodded brightly. "Yup. I'm also Trixie. It's really me, Maze, I promise."

Mazikeen shook her head and took another step back. "No. That can't be."

Trixie frowned. She knew where this was going to go.

But she didn't want to go there.

"Please come home, Maze," she said, her throat growing thick. She knew this wouldn't fix anything, but she had to say it. She needed Maze to hear it. "I miss you."

The words brought tears to her friend's eyes.

"Why are you doing this? This manipulation? Why are you pretending to be my friend?"

Trixie looked down at her shoes, caked in ash.

"Because I _am_ your friend. I'm not pretending. I'm not manipulating you. I've been Trixie my whole life. I made it so I'd remember I was her, and not be mostly God for a while."

"But... why?" Mazikeen asked, her voice cracking.

Trixie let out forced breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because I wanted to be close to my son."

Mazikeen didn't answer for a long while, drawing Trixie's gaze.

"You mean _Lucifer?_" Mazikeen asked, her voice rising in disbelief.

God nodded.

And her best friend laughed at her - an abrupt sound without warmth or joy.

It hurt.

Mazikeen's words grew sharp with spite.

"The son you flung out of Heaven and exiled here? The son you refused to talk to for millennia?! That son?!"

Trixie frowned, her gaze dipping. "Yes."

Mazikeen took a step forward, her body shaking in a growing rage.

"The son you decided to remake into a perfectly obedient angel who beat me up, tore me from a home I was trying to make, and tossed me here like trash?"

Trixie looked at her through a sudden rush of tears.

"I never wanted that to happen, Mazikeen. And he's back now - he's okay and everything's better!"

Her friend said nothing.

And God continued the fruitless dance dictated by the form he wore.

"So I'm here to fix it now - I'm here to take you home!"

Mazikeen's eyes blazed in anger.

She stepped closer still.

"This IS my home now, _Maker_," she growled. "I was given the throne and I have accepted it. This is _my_ realm now. And I will let _none_ take it from me."

Trixie closed her eyes and let her tears fall.

That was it then.

She would not force her friend to follow. She would not change her friend's mind.

She done that too many times to count, to so many.

It was time to stop.

"And you, Maker, or Trixie, or whoever you present yourself to be - you are NOT welcome here."

The voice that spoke those words broke.

God opened a young girl's eyes and looked up into a demon's, wet with grief and pain.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Maze," Trixie said softly.

The ground under her feet began to rumble.

Cracks appeared, tearing through the baked land towards her - the sound of them split the air like gunfire.

Mazikeen looked about herself, her brow furrowed. Grimacing in effort, she flattened her hands towards the ground.

"Stop!" she cried, looking back at Trixie in something close to panic.

"It's okay," Trixie said softly, as the cracks widened beneath her feet. She stepped to one side where the land was still stable, but the cracks shifted to chase her. Jagged points of obsidian thrust up through the widening chasms towards her.

"I'm not doing this!" Maze cried, reaching out to Trixie, striving to take her hand as the ground pitched violently and shuddered.

Trixie nodded with a thin smile. "I know."

The ground gave way beneath her feet - she fell briefly, before rising back up to stand on nothing, her sparkly sneakers suspended over the dark depths below. She side-stepped the obsidian blades that followed her, then rolled her eyes with a little sigh.

"Lilith, stop it."

The quaking worsened. The ground groaned thunderously as it crumbled away beneath her. Mazikeen stood then, atop the only spire left of untouched earth, her eyes fixed on Trixie in shock.

"Lilith?" she whispered.

Beyond them, across the vista that was the plain and the jagged, distant peaks spewing pulsing waves of steaming red, the land continued to undulate and break.

And from that land rose a form, larger than all the far mountains combined - the form of a woman slowly sitting up, her head topped with cascading waves of brilliant lava, her eyes and mouth closed, defined by now vertical valleys and hills. Her shoulders rose, shedding tumbling boulders and great clouds of ash. Arms larger than cities lifted from the bedrock, followed by hands of earth ending in nails of sharply curved obsidian.

The woman's massive head rose, and the valley floors cracked where her eyelids would be.

And orbs of molten flame opened, and narrowed.

At Trixie.

* * *

_So, this is tremendously AU now, but something I'd planned since Mazikeen began wielding Hell as a weapon. I knew just where Lilith was, and what she was, and how she'd come to be so. More of that is revealed in the next chapter._

_I've got to say, without spoiling too much of the revelation in Season 5a, that I felt that the show's treatment/version of a certain someone came up short. Not all of it, just the end of it. That's all I'll say. :)_

_Thanks for reading, and for the comments! That was lovely! I've got the next chapter finished and there are a few more to go. It's lovely to be writing again. :) Take care._


	60. The Fabric of this Place

_Bit of a long one. :) Hope everyone's doing well. Thanks to everyone who left a comment - you're wonderful._

* * *

Mazikeen fell to her knees.

"Momma?" she whispered in mangled Lilim, as the cloud of ash spurred by her mother's rising washed over them both in a violent wave.

Trixie spat some of it out and wiped her eyes, nodding at her friend.

Then she turned to meet Lilith's burning gaze, standing as tall as her twelve-year-old frame allowed.

"I am not here to harm your child," she said, in a voice that didn't quite come from her mouth.

Lilith's earthen brows, framed in black obsidian, furrowed.

The ground pitched suddenly and the grinding of deep bedrock formed a deafening word.

**-LEAVE-**

"I'm going to, I just wanted to-"

**-NOW-**

"Momma?!" Mazikeen cried, reaching out as if she might grasp her mother's face. "Why are you like this?! What happened to you?!"

She turned, her eyes sharp and wild, to Trixie.

"Did you do this to her?!" she roared, pointing at her mother.

"Yes, but-"

Lilith's massive hand, that had slowly risen before them both, fell swiftly on top of Trixie, clenched as a fist the size of a football stadium.

The sound of it was a cacophony, and the earth and stone frame of the hand crumbled apart, filling the chasm beneath her feet as she merely passed through it all and floated level with her friend again.

And another limb rose to take its place, slamming down atop her once more.

**-LEAVE-**

Trixie sighed, restored above it all again.

"Lilith, you can't hur-"

A rock struck her temple, leaving a small gash, before falling away between her feet.

Trixie grasped her head and looked at Mazikeen in shock.

"UNDO WHAT YOU DID!" her friend cried, grabbing another rock to throw. "BRING HER BACK!"

"Mazikeen, you don't underst-"

Another limb collapsed atop her with a thunderous impact, crumbling away around her again.

With an irritated sound, Trixie's form exploded in a wave brilliant light, sending Mazikeen flying from the spire, shattering enormous boulders and obsidian spires to the far horizon, and searing a layer of earth from Lilith's form.

**ENOUGH**

Mazikeen stopped in midair, suspended far above the shattered earth, her limbs caught flailing, her eyes wide with fear and rage.

Stunned, still flailing, she was lifted and restored to her feet on the spire.

The earth about them reformed, returning to the bluff that had stood before Lilith's rising.

And the realm trembled as God spoke.

**YOUR MOTHER MADE THIS CHOICE, MAZIKEEN OF THE LILIM**

The light shimmered and shifted and drew in.

Back to the form of Trixie.

"Not me."

Mazikeen's legs crumpled beneath her. She sat hard against the ground.

"Why?" she asked, in a broken voice.

Trixie's sparkly sneakers slowly lowered to the restored earth.

She looked at Lilith's gargantuan, scowling form, and back.

And her eyes grew gentle upon Maze.

"Because she wanted to be close to all of you."

Mazikeen's breath hitched, and her gaze, glistening with tears, moved from Trixie, to Lilith's earthen visage.

The blazing, molten gaze of her mother swiveled slowly to her.

"But... you left us... you went away," Mazikeen mumbled. "You abandoned us..."

With a far thunderous rumbling, Lilith's head turned slowly back and forth.

And the earth groaned again.

**-HERE-**

**-ALWAYS-**

A sob tore from Mazikeen. She clamped a hand over her mouth as if to stop the sound.

Trixie walked near.

"I made your mom out of this land, Maze. This was my first attempt at Eden. It looked really different then."

Drawing a little closer, she sat down beside her friend.

"I had a grand plan. But Lilith was so strong and wild and curious and driven. She had no interest in following it. She hated Adam. I had to separate them. So I gave her this space and the power to shape it, and I started a new realm and a new Eden."

Trixie started played with the dirt as she spoke, crumbling it between her little fingers.

It was all so long ago.

But being connected to the past as clearly as the present, it felt like yesterday.

"She started creating the Lilim. You were one of the first, you know. But I don't think she saw you as her children. She was lonely and desperate for connection and change. She started refashioning the land, but she wasn't very good at it and the lifeforms I'd placed here died."

Mazikeen finally looked up at the far distant figure, her eyes flooded and tight with rage.

"You were a terrible mother!" she shouted out over the land.

Lilith's gaze did not waver.

**-YES-**

"She made so many of you, seeking for what she could not find, she grew overwhelmed. She was angry at the failing of her world, and the world started to reflect her anger, growing hot and inhospitable. Conflict and punishment became twined with the fabric of this place. Which was perfect for my new plan. I desired a place to send those who had done wrong, outside of the bounds I had written for their souls."

Mazikeen scowled.

"I hate both of you."

Trixie reached out to grasp Mazikeen's hand. "I know. And that's fair."

Frowning, Mazikeen looked up at her, and Trixie continued, knowing Lilith wanted her to.

Knowing her friend needed her to.

"Your mother agreed to my proposal, knowing her creations would enjoy the torment of others. But she asked me for a favor."

Looking out at the mountainous form of Lilith, Trixie smiled.

"She'd realized she'd neglected you all. That she'd misunderstood how you saw her. She'd missed a chance to be a mother, a guardian, a nurturer - one who could support her offspring in their passions, as twisted as they had become."

She looked back at her friend, whose tear-filled gaze had fallen to the dry ground.

"She couldn't give the millions of you that she'd fashioned the individual care and attention you each craved and deserved. But she realized there was a way she could support all of you. To cradle you in way, and hold each of you as you lived your lives in the realm she'd been given."

Trixie's smile grew soft. "She asked me to return her to the land she'd been fashioned from, but in full consciousness of who she was. So... she merged with this realm. Lilith _is_ Hell, Maze. She did this to be close to all of you. To hold all of you in the best form of love she could manage."

Mazikeen's eyes opened, and her brows soared as she looked back at her mother.

She looked fragile and lost.

And Trixie pushed on.

"She grew dormant after a while, her consciousness quieting as the millennia passed."

She squeezed her friend's hand. "Until you came."

Mazikeen looked up at her.

With no anger or spite or fear.

"When you came," Trixie continued, in her small twelve-year-old voice, "and you claimed the throne because of the soul I gave you, and connected with this realm so completely, your mother woke up. That's why Hell responds to you as it has no other. That's why the land leaps to your whim and aid. Your mother is supporting you. And, I think..."

She grinned.

"I think she's-"

**-PROUD-**

The land roared over her words.

Mazikeen's gaze snapped to her mother, her mouth falling open in shock as the rumbling words faded behind them.

And sagging against the earth, she broke down completely, grasping the dry, crumbling soil as she shook with deep sobs.

Trixie gathered her friend in a small hug as she looked out over the plains, and caught the burning gaze of Lilith.

And smiled.

And between Mazikeen's grasping hands, caked with the ash and dirt of her mother, grew something new.

Something very small and green.

Untainted by rage and disappointment.

Trixie looked down at it and grinned.

"Lilith! Look what you did!"

The skies grew thick with something never seen in Hell, save once before, at its earliest making.

Clouds. Tall and wide and full of power.

More new green things slowly emerged from the parched, burnt land.

And the rains began to fall.

Trixie began to laugh, like a little kid.

Because she was a little kid.

Well, twelve wasn't that little anymore, maybe.

But this made an endless immortal being feel so young again.

"I like this chaos," she whispered, as the water streaked down her face and she held her best friend.

Mazikeen slowly unfolded, lifting her hands to catch the rain as the green life spread around her.

"What's happening?" she mumbled, her gaze rising to the clouds, then dropping to seek her mother's form through the haze of the falling rain.

**-ALWAYS HERE-**, came one last rumbling call from the land about her, before the figure began to crumble, its form dissolving back to the plains and mountains as the carpet of green began to spread.

"Momma?!" Mazikeen cried, jerking forward. "No! Don't leave!"

Trixie rested her hand on her friend's arm. "She's not going anywhere, Maze. She's a part of everything around you. And right now she's doing something wonderful."

Maze grasped at Trixie's hand desperately, her eyes locked on where her mother had been.

"What is she doing?"

"She's healing," Trixie said softly.

Mazikeen finally looked at her fully, her eyes bloodshot, her hair and face dripping with rain.

And she wrapped her arms around Trixie and held her tight.

"I don't hate you," she whispered.

"I know," Trixie murmured back, smiling.

"But I'm not leaving."

Trixie swallowed and nodded as the smile faded. "I know."

"Come visit me?"

"I'll try. I'll be Trixie completely soon though, and I won't remember all of this. I'll tell Lucifer to bring me though."

Mazikeen pulled away slowly.

"He's really back?"

Trixie nodded.

Her friend winced and looked down at the soaking ground.

"I tried to kill him."

"You do that a lot."

Mazikeen's gaze flicked up. A bright, wicked grin spread across her face.

"Yeah, I do."

Trixie giggled. Reaching behind herself, she snatched up the six-pack that had fallen during the fight, and been buried under the earth a thousand feet below them.

The six-pack was more of a mangled three-pack by then, but she offered one of the salvaged cans to her friend, before taking one for herself.

Mazikeen took it, snapped the top, and tipped her head back to drink.

Trixie tried the same thing.

And spit it up.

"Oh, so gross," she sputtered, before wiping her mouth. "Bleah."

Mazikeen rolled her eyes, grabbed the can from Trixie and drank it, before crushing and tossing the can over her shoulder to where the other lay.

Trixie blinked the cans into a recycling bin on Earth, staring pointedly at her friend as she did so.

She sighed then, and gazed over the Plain of the Buried where no more tortured flora grew and everything was green.

"I guess I have to revise some things now. This is a sucky part of chaos."

"I have an idea," Mazikeen said abruptly, enjoying the last can. She pointed her pinkie at Trixie as she drank, before wiping her mouth roughly. "Stop punishing people."

Trixie frowned.

"But they've done terrible things."

"_I've_ done terrible things."

"Because that's what you did here."

"On Earth too," Maze said, crossing her arms. "Did you know I ate a guy's pet goldfish in front of him?"

"I did, since I was everything at the time. Including that goldfish I might add. And that's terrible."

"It was terrible. Tasted like shit and wiggled all the way down."

"I remember, and eww."

"Right?"

"I can't not punish people, Maze," God said in her young voice, throwing her small arms out. "What else am I supposed to do? Reward them?"

"No," Maze answered, rolling her eyes as if Trixie were an idiot. Then she started grinding her can into the dirt. "But... they did a lot of these things because they were hurt. Like I was. I've learned that here." She finally looked up, and gave a lazy shrug. "I dunno. Make them start over until they get it right, or something."

Trixie blinked.

"Oh... you mean like reincarnation?" Covering her mouth, she giggled into her hand. "That's my fault, you know. Sometimes I get a tiny bit tired and the boundaries fall a little and all of a sudden everyone gets a glimpse of being everyone else throughout history and it's all, 'I was Cleopatra', or 'I was Alexander the Great', or 'I was some poor Slavic peasant who died because she ate a bad turnip'."

She frowned. "Or ate nothing at all. Damn my wife for those famines and plagues. The thirteen hundreds sucked."

When she looked back at her friend, Maze was staring at her cockeyed.

"Nevermind," Trixie said quickly.

And she considered it.

"It's a lot of work. I'll have to stop making new souls for a little while."

"That sounds like less work."

Trixie put her small fists on her hips. "Who's the god of all creation here?"

Maze just smirked.

"Whatever."

Giggling, Trixie stood.

Her smile turned sad.

"Thanks for being my friend, Maze. I've never really had a friend before. I mean, I've had everyone else's friends, but never... one of my own. Even when I incarnated the first time I didn't really have friends. They were all scared of me, or hated me, or looked at me in awe all the time. Then they nailed me to a damn stick."

Maze was looking at her cockeyed again.

Trixie laughed out loud.

"See? Nobody ever looked at me like that. You're my best friend, Maze... and... I love you."

Mazikeen grabbed her and held her tight.

"I love you too, Trix. I mean... Maker.. or God... or," she growled at herself, "whatever. Come and visit."

Trixie nodded slowly against her as her eyes flooded with tears.

It would be a while before she did.

And it wouldn't be the same.

"Oh," she mumbled, sniffing over Maze's shoulder. "By the way, Michael's gone."

Mazikeen pulled back, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Oh, thank God!"

Then she smirked. "I mean... _you_... and Michael was okay, but... he was no Lucifer. He slept all the damn time. Lucifer never slept _once._ We'd go at it hard for centuries at a time, every position you could imagine, with friends and lots of toys, and he... why are your fingers in your ears?"

Trixie grinned and pulled them out. "I'm supposed to be twelve. And I think someone better is coming very soon."

"Oh?" Mazikeen raised an unscarred eyebrow. "Are they good at sex? Do they have stamina?"

Trixie tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I think so? They've certainly had a lot of time to practice? But, I can't talk about that anymore or I'll get grounded."

She stared off at the lush forest spreading out before them as the clouds thinned and the sky flooded with color.

Things were getting a little distant inside.

"I think I'm starting to remember I'm just Trixie," she whispered, before turning back to her friend. "I think I have to go home before I forget how to."

"Okay," Maze said, smiling as she squeezed her hand. "Thank you for everything, Trixie."

God beamed at her best friend.

And stepped backwards into the Cliff House.

where she stared at nothing for a little while as her tears fell.

The part of her as God that still managed the universe made adjustments and corrections outside the scope of time - a multitude of damned souls were claimed back from Hell and thrust into the cycle of life once more, their scrolls waiting to be filled with new moments and the bright potential that awaited.

Most were reincarnated as Hermit crabs.

Trixie blinked.

She was standing in the living room, and the morning light was streaming through the tall windows.

Frowning, she looked out at the deck, then around the kitchen, and down the hall.

"Mom?" she called.

Nobody answered.

And it didn't feel like anyone was here.

Something fell from her cheek, and she wiped there, confused.

Why was her face wet?

"Mom?" she called again, her voice rising.

There was a sweep of wings, and a bright swell of light, and the sliding door behind her opened.

And in walked Lucifer in black pants, carrying her mom in his arms.

Chloe was flushed and smiling from ear to ear as Lucifer lowered her to her feet. His own eyes were soft, and fixed utterly on her, and they kissed gently before turning towards her.

Her mom smiled at her, eyes full of love and joy.

She looked so happy, it was wonderful.

"Trixie? You're up early?"

She ran towards her mom, because she needed to be held. Everything felt a little bad and she didn't know why.

Lucifer's gaze caught her. He frowned.

_Father?_ came his voice in her head.

But she hadn't even seen him steeple his hands in prayer?

"W-what?" she asked, looking up at him in confusion as she grasped her mom tight.

"I see," Lucifer said softly. And he smiled. "Good morning, Beatrice. Have you had breakfast?"

She frowned, deeply, and started to shake her head. "No, I... I don't know... I... something's weird, mom."

Chloe crouched before her and held her hands. "What do you mean, monkey? What's going on?"

Trixie started to shift in place as her frown grew deeper. "I don't know, I feel like... I forgot something."

Lucifer snorted.

Chloe's eyes widened and she started up at him slowly.

He winced. "Forgive me. I will make breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, Beatrice?"

Trixie stared at him, nodding slowly before watching him walk away. "Why's he talking so funny, mom?"

Chloe frowned. "How do you mean, baby?"

She shook her head, as her throat grew thick. "I don't know... he's not saying things the same way. Why is everything so weird, mom?"

"Monkey... come sit on the couch."

And her mom led her to the soft leather sofa and lifted her up into her arms.

"You are getting so big," Chloe said, holding her close.

It felt good, and she relaxed a little, watching Lucifer over her mom's shoulder.

He was cooking, but glanced at her a few times, his gaze thoughtful.

What was going on?

"What happened to Lucifer," she whispered near her mom's ear. "He's different."

Chloe sighed, and nodded softly. "Yes, monkey, he is. But in a good way."

Trixie pulled back to stare at her mom. "What happened?"

And her mom looked at her sadly. "Well... you remember the camping trip Lucifer and I went on?"

Trixie nodded, because she did.

And it annoyed her, because they didn't let her come. It wasn't like she didn't know how to camp!

Her mother's eyes held her cautiously.

"Do you remember what happened after that?"

"Sure," Trixie said, shrugging, and she opened her mouth to say more.

But nothing came out, because her mind was filling swiftly with memories.

And every single one of them was terrible.

Her dad yelling at the phone, grabbing her with a forced smile, and rushing them to the hospital.

Staring into a nurse's cheerful face as her dad talked to the doctor, who assured him that while it had been close, everything was going to be okay.

But... nothing was okay.

Because Lucifer... had died. She'd run through him in the hospital room, thinking he was solid and real and alive.

He'd been... a ghost?

A strangled sob left her as her eyes grew wide, fixed on him.

"Oh, no... monkey, hey - I'm right here and everything's okay!"

And a man had come...

Trixie's breaths came in rapid pants as she started to shake, her focus shifting beyond Lucifer, beyond the kitchen and the space of the house.

A blade stabbing through her palm. Lucifer yelling at her in the middle of a storm.

Mark's eyes, glass and empty, staring up at her from the school stage floor as the desperate cries of the dying rose around her.

Trixie opened her mouth wide, her eyes stretching wider still.

And she screamed.

The sound was high pitched and growing ever more shrill, as her mind was overwhelmed with the scrambled, horrific madness of the last few days.

Lucifer looked up sharply, dropped a pan with a crash on the stove, and rushed forward as his white wings filled the space.

Radiant, blinding light burst from his form.

And the world vanished in a comforting blanket of white.


	61. Your Angel Mojo

_Sorry for the wait on this one. It's a whopper of a chapter, but some neat things happen between Lucifer and..._

* * *

Linda's foot tapped relentlessly against her office rug as her smile pulled into a fascinating rictus.

"I'm sorry," she said sharply, hoping desperately that she had misheard, "Trixie is _what?_"

"God."

A small, strangled laugh left her.

She stared at Lucifer, sitting forward on the couch in his beautifully tailored black suit, his hands laced gracefully atop his knees.

"You're kidding," she said, very much needing him to grin and admit he was.

"I am not," he said, very much refusing to do so.

He was utterly serious.

But it was utterly ridiculous!

"No," she said definitively.

She hadn't actually meant to say anything, but she seemed to be speaking without the benefit of thought right now, and perhaps, right now, that was appropriate.

"No-no," she repeated, shaking her head, because why stop now?

Lucifer smiled. "You appear to be having a problem with the concept."

"I'm having a BIG problem with the concept, Lucifer! How can Trixie be God?! She's a twelve-year-old girl!"

"Yes," he nodded agreeably. "And also God."

With a small sound of concern, she stared at her closed office door.

Beyond it lay her waiting room.

Where God apparently sat, dressed as a tween.

"I can't do this," she whispered, as her foot started picking up speed, and her finger joined in, tapping against her knee.

"I mean," she said with a nervous laugh, "I don't even work with kids! They don't like me! I'm not hip!"

"You are the only one I trust to do this," Lucifer said softly, still smiling.

Her foot slowed briefly as she stared at him, marveling at how untroubled he seemed. How open he'd become. His gaze was bright and warm, the smile utterly sincere.

And she found herself smiling back as a soft glow filled the room.

"Nope!" she snapped, shaking her head as she held up a hand. "Don't think you can sucker me into doing this with your angel mojo!"

Grinning as the glow faded around him, Lucifer sat back against the couch, draping his leg over his knee with a flash of red from his shoe.

"It was worth a try."

Her wide gaze fixed on the door again as her voice became a whisper. "But... why does God need _my_ help?"

Lucifer laughed.

"I could answer that in so many ways. None that he would appreciate."

She managed a weak echo of his laugh, as the rictus slowly returned to her face.

"But, truthfully," he continued, "it is not my Father who needs your help, Linda. It is Beatrice."

Linda stared at him.

"But... you said Trixie _was_ God."

"Yes," he said, stretching his arm back along the couch. "But she is not aware of that right now."

She quickly held up a finger. "I'm going to need a _little_ more on that."

Lucifer released a long, slow breath.

"My Father chose to incarnate as Beatrice to be closer to me, and to make up for our," he glanced away briefly, "past difficulties. As Chloe's child, he is normally unaware of being anything but a young girl. The recent circumstances and my prior return to Hell reversed that, but Beatrice is now, once again, herself, and greatly troubled, as I shared earlier."

Linda's jaw fell. Lucifer had casually dropped something stunningly important in the middle of that and she wasn't about to let it slide by.

"Lucifer..." she whispered, "that's incredible! This... this is incredible for you! Isn't this incredible? You've spent so much time and energy raging against your father, and you've just told me that he's been making an attempt to reconcile your relationship?! This.. this is amazing! Do you know how often this _doesn't_ happen? Do you know how many people seek for that kind of recognition their entire lives and never get it?!"

His expression remained flat.

"My father revealed all of this to me upon my return from Hell, and after our reconciliation, promptly erased the information from my mind."

"Ah."

"He later wiped me from existence and remade me with no knowledge of my past or my connection to Chloe."

"Riiight."

"And forgot to mention that the ring he'd gifted me at my making was a prison for a jealous god who eventually stole my immortality, caused my physical death, and attempted to annihilate the entire universe in the guise of my son."

Linda grasped the glass of water before her desperately and drank it without stopping, before slapping it back down a little harder than she'd meant to.

"But," she hiccuped, "you... ah... seem more peaceful now? So that's... that's good."

He laughed, and the sound was beautiful.

"Despite my father's efforts, yes. I have reconciled something within myself, and that has been worth all of it."

And he smiled, his eyes bright and unguarded.

The pain she'd seen so often in him, the hurt that had crept to the corners of his eyes, was gone.

He was beautific. And Linda simply stared, with a big, dumb smile on her face, until the reality of his visit slammed home again.

"Oh God. We've kept the creator of the entire universe waiting with a bunch of crappy magazines on home decorating and the benefits of drinking wheatgrass..." She made a small sound of pain and dropped her head to her hand. "Lucifer, I don't think I can do this."

"Perhaps a different perspective would help," he said reassuringly.

"Oh?"

"Simply think of her as Jesus."

Linda's stomach, which had dropped through her gut at the mention of God, continued to drop through her seat, and the floor, landing somewhere in the underground parking garage.

"No!" she yelled, sweeping her hand to the door. "You are not helping! Out!"

He frowned, but slowly stood, straightening his impeccable suit before striding in graceful steps to the door.

"Then you will not see her?" he asked, turning back, his peace somewhat dimmed.

Linda sighed.

"Alright Lucifer, I can't make any promises, but I'll do the best I can."

The devil beamed at her, and slipped through the door.

And after hushed conversation, Trixie's small head poked through.

And everything was fine, because it was just _Trixie._ They'd celebrated her birthday at the Cliff House a couple of months ago, and she'd come over a few times to hang out with Charlie, making him giggle like nobody else could.

She was just a twelve-year-old girl who needed help.

Linda released the breath she'd been holding, and smiled, settling into the familiar landscape of her craft.

"Come on in, sweetheart, and take a seat."

Trixie entered slowly with her arms clamped across her chest, looking around the room anxiously.

She stood by the couch for a moment and waved quickly.

"Hi."

"You can relax, Trixie, honest."

The girl's eyes grew very swiftly wet, but she slowly sat down, her body narrow and tense on the couch.

The sight was alarming. Trixie was a bright, bubbly kid. That wasn't showing here at all.

"Have you ever been to a therapist before?" Linda asked, broadcasting as best she could her own calm.

Trixie shook her head stiffly.

Linda smiled. "It's just like talking to a friend."

"Okay."

The smallest frown flitted across Linda's brow.

"Sweetheart, Lucifer told me that you're having bad nightmares."

Trixie nodded, and her gaze dropped to her hands, clenching tightly together.

"I see really bad things," she said quietly.

"I'm sure you do. Your mom said some awful things happened to you."

Trixie's mouth rippled, and she nodded again.

"There was a very bad man. He... hurt me. He hurt... my..."

Her breath hitched, and her gaze rose, sharp and wide.

Her breaths came in quick and shallow gasps.

A panic attack, with the look of being a very bad one.

"Trixie," Linda said quickly, "there are five pink things in the room around me. I bet you can't find all five."

Trixie blinked as her hands grasped the edge of the couch with small white knuckles.

"W-what?"

Linda smiled, breathing slowly and easily and softening her voice. "Bet you can't find the five pink things I have hidden around my office."

Trixie blinked again, and frowned as she quickly glanced around the space.

"Bet I can."

Linda grinned. "Say them out loud when you see them."

"How much did you want to bet?" Trixie asked slyly, with a growing smirk.

Perfect. This was the Trixie she knew.

"How about... an ice cream later?"

"How about five bucks now?" Trixie countered, with a toothy grin.

"Ha! How about three?"

"Deal!"

"Five pink things," Linda repeated.

She was about to lose three bucks, but the distraction had worked as intended.

Trixie's legs swung against the couch as she stared around the room and pointed to various places.

"That book."

"Yup."

"Those tissues."

"Yep."

"That weird thing over there..."

"That's a kachina doll."

"The little pig on your shelf."

Linda grinned. "Good eye."

"And... and... um..."

Trixie seemed stumped then, and Linda glanced quickly at the small table on the far side of the room where she had a pink flower.

But the flower was gone.

"Oops, I'm sorry, I-"

"Your lungs! Five things! I'll take that three dollars now."

And she held out her little hand.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "My what?"

"Your lungs," Trixie repeated, pointing at Linda's chest. Then she smirked and pointed at Linda's head. "And your brain too I guess. Do I get extra for more than five?"

Linda laughed. "Trixie, you can't see my lungs or my brain - that doesn't count. And I'm sorry, usually I-"

"Yes, I can! They're right there - and there's a little weird part on the bottom of your left one."

With a deep frown, Linda stared down at herself. "My left what?"

"Lung. You should get that checked out."

Linda froze, her eyes widening as she stared down at her shirt.

"Oh," came Trixie's quiet voice.

"Ohhhh," Linda whispered, slowly looking up again.

Trixie was grinning.

"This was unexpected," she said, swinging her legs again. "How fascinating. It's not often I'm surprised, but I recently decided to embrace chaos and all of these strange things keep happening. I'm glad it did today. It is truly an honor to meet you, Linda."

Linda made a noise not unlike a squeeze toy that's been accidentally sat on.

Trixie giggled.

"Oh, God..."

"Yes?"

"I... I... I'm..."

"Speechless, apparently."

Linda snorted, and nodded, suddenly feeling a little more relaxed.

Then she started crying. Ugly, loud, embarrassing sobs - worse than when she'd broken down at the sight and sound of Samael. Because she was sitting in front of _God,_ and she didn't know what to say, and she wanted to say everything, but she was afraid to.

Because she felt so terribly _small._

The door burst open, and Lucifer stopped short, his gaze swinging from Linda's anguished face, and Trixie's knowing smile, and back.

"Father, why is my therapist crying?! What did you do to her?"

Trixie rolled her eyes.

"Why is everything _my_ fault?!"

"Because, _father,_ as you are so fond of telling me, you ARE everything!" He crossed to Linda's side with two broad steps and crouched next to her, before scowling back at Trixie. "What did you say to her?!"

"I'm fine," Linda murmured, struggling to mop up the volume of her blubbering.

Then she started laughing over the wad of tissues as she stared between them both.

Here she was, with God and the Devil in her office, arguing.

Where was this scenario in her education?!

"Oh, wonderful," Lucifer snapped, throwing his hand up. "Now she is emotionally unbalanced. Well done, Father!"

"Lucifer," Linda sighed.

"You have no idea what the situation really is," Trixie snapped back, "and you blame me, yet again! Have you not learned that I am not directly responsible for everything that goes wrong in your life?!"

"Excuse me," Linda said, raising her hand as Lucifer shot to his feet by her side, his body taut.

"You are responsible for MOST of it!" Lucifer growled back. "Perhaps not the terrible olive in my martini three months ago, or the bird that shat on my Vuittons, but the path of my life... Father, why are you smirking?!"

Trixie leaned back, grinning. "I may have had something to do with the bird."

"Unbelievable!"

"You were being rather obnoxious at the time, and I was upset, and then I saw the bird and... things happened..."

"The human rules dictate," Lucifer shouted back, stabbing his finger into his palm to punctuate each word, "that twelve-year-olds cannot drive!"

"It was early and the traffic on 405 wasn't that bad!"

"EXCUSE ME," Linda muttered, glaring at them both.

"Oh, believe me," Lucifer continued with a little aggravated laugh, "I would like nothing more than for you to be my own personal chauffeur, Father, but Chloe-"

"AS IF!" Trixie shouted back, standing to her feet. "I want my OWN CAR to drive! I'm not your-"

"BOYS!" Linda yelled, grabbing the arms of her chair.

The two celestial beings in her office stopped and slowly looked at her.

Her heart fell through the floor to land beside her stomach.

"I'm a girl," Trixie said, sitting back down abruptly with her arms crossed.

"And I am over 14 billion years old, Doctor," Lucifer answered indignantly, "I hardly qualif-"

"Sit down," Linda snapped.

Trixie grinned as Lucifer stepped stiffly towards the couch, and sat as far away from her as possible.

"In my true form I'm neither boy or girl," Trixie offered helpfully. "I'm a nontemporal, multi-dimensional, quant-"

"We're listening now," Linda said firmly, holding up her hand.

Another part of her was covering her eyes in the back of her head while yelling _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!_

Lucifer grinned, crossing his legs as he relaxed back against the couch.

"Don't look so smug, Lucifer," Linda said shortly. "You _do_ have a tendency to blame your father for everything that goes wrong in your life."

It was Trixie's turn to grin.

"And..." Linda started, focusing on her, "ahh..."

And her brain froze.

"You can call me Trixie," God said helpfully.

"Trixie, as... the... uhhh... creator of all things..." she stared wide-eyed at her table for a moment before continuing, "you do have a tendency to exert a level of control on your children that many would perceive as unhealthy."

The part of her inside that had previously protested fainted.

"She's very good," Lucifer said, beaming as he grasped his knees, drawing his legs up briefly with another flash of red.

"She is, actually," Trixie whispered back. "I'm very glad I created her."

"Oh my Lord," Linda gurgled.

"Trixie is fine," the little girl corrected.

Linda shook her head as she desperately searched for her glass of water. But of course, she'd finished the whole thing after finding out that she was about to have a session with _God._

Liquids! She needed liquids! Whiskey, preferably!

"Here," Trixie said, nodding at the glass.

And it was filled.

Linda stared at it the clear liquid for a very long time.

Highly likely that wasn't vodka or gin.

She looked up.

"Do you still do the wine thing?" she whispered hopefully, her throat a desert.

Trixie's mouth twisted thoughtfully. "Not really, wine is yucky. But, how about..."

The water turned opaque and grayish brown.

Linda raised an eyebrow.

"Chocolate milk," Trixie said, smiling.

"I'm lactose intolerant," Linda whispered, realizing that was probably not the best followup to a miracle performed by God.

"I'll drink it then!"

The glass appeared in the girl's small hands and she started slurping from it happily.

Lucifer, his gaze fixed on Linda, gestured at Trixie as she drank. "This is the kind of behavior I have had to endure my entire life."

Linda snorted and started laughing.

And it took a very long time to stop.

Something struck her then, that pulled her from the insanity of the moment to the very real panic of a young girl.

"I don't understand," she said thoughtfully, staring at Trixie.

Trixie finished her milk, nodding, and put the glass back on the table. It slid to Linda filled with water.

"I'm not surprised," Trixie said sympathetically, "celestial matters are difficult for humans to-"

Lucifer bumped her roughly with an elbow, interrupting her.

When she glared at him, he shook his head pointedly.

"A bad idea."

"No." Linda shook her head. "I don't understand why _you,_" she gestured with both hands at Trixie, "the creator of everything, with the ability to manipulate reality and memory, would choose to let your incarnation suffer in this way, when there is little remaining threat or reason to do so."

Trixie's mouth fell open.

And Lucifer turned to stare at her small, shocked face with devilish glee.

"Oh, fantastic, doctor," he said happily, glancing briefly back at Linda. "Do answer that, Father."

Linda blinked.

She looked about herself frowning, before staring at Lucifer and Trixie, sitting on the couch before her.

"Um..." she murmured, "I'm sorry. I must have spaced out. Were we...?" she gestured between them and nodded. "We must have been. I apologize. Now, Lucifer, you said over the phone that Trixie was having nightmares?"

Lucifer stared at her for a moment, before his brows furrowed deeply.

And his eyes burst aflame.

Linda put her hands up. "You're the one who called me, Lucifer, I don't even work with..." she gestured towards Chloe's daughter, "you know."

"How _dare_ you, father," Lucifer growled, twisting his molten gaze to Trixie, "Restore what you have taken from the doctor immediately, or our agreement is rescinded. I shall tell Chloe _everything._"

Trixie glared at him.

"Wait.. _father?!_" Linda asked, her throat suddenly three times as parched as it had been.

"I am not interested in this anymore," Trixie said flatly, crossing her arms.

"THE Father?!" Linda spluttered, grasping her chair as she stared open mouthed at Trixie. "As in... YOUR Father?!"

"That is very clear," Lucifer snapped back. "But it was your choice to leave these memories in place, to put Chloe through the anguish of watching Trixie suffer. I will not abide her pain - do you understand? Restore the doctor and answer her, or our deal is voided."

"God?" Linda squeaked, bringing her hands to her mouth.

Then she very slowly lowered them.

As the many moments before the last few were returned.

"Oh," she said quietly, staring intently at Trixie. "Oh, wow."

"I apologize," Lucifer said formally, "on behalf of-"

Linda raised a hand and shook her head. "It's okay, Lucifer."

"You," she gestured at Trixie, "no matter how all-knowing or omnipotent, are in a great deal of pain."

Trixie stared across the room at the little pig on the shelf.

"I could end this entire reality in an instant," she whispered, her gaze unmoving.

"Wiping my mind was the wrong thing to do, and completely terrifying," Linda said, undeterred, "but it's an action I understand."

Trixie's eyes snapped to her.

"Avoidance. Defensiveness. Hiding from what you don't wish to face."

"I am a part of every therapist on earth, doctor, including yourself."

"Deflection."

Trixie scowled and looked away again.

Linda drew in a long breath and released it slowly.

When she next spoke, the little girl in front of her mouthed every word as it came out of her mouth.

"You allow the suffering because you feel you deserve it."

Trixie flopped back into the couch.

Lucifer looked slowly between them both.

"I do not often use this vernacular, doctor, but it applies here. You have substantial balls."

Linda looked at him cockeyed.

"I'm sorry?"

He gestured, helpfully, at his own genitals.

"A man is sometimes referred to, when engaged in courageous acts, as having large ba-"

"Yup, stop, we're good." Linda mumbled, rubbing her temples vigorously.

"The Third caused a disruption," Trixie said abruptly, "and I needed a certain continuum of memory to fit within the remnants of Chloe's and my friend's realities. Mark-"

Trixie's voice broke.

Lucifer stared at his father.

Linda nodded softly.

"Mark is very special to you."

God nodded. "I have allowed myself to become quite entwined as Trixie to those I spend my time with."

"That's very matter of fact."

"It is true."

"He's okay now though, isn't he?"

Trixie's gaze grew flat.

"I almost lost him irrevocably. I almost lost everyone. And... I destroyed my beautiful son."

A tear fell down her small cheek. She did not bother to wipe it away.

"Father, I am recovered."

Trixie shook her head. "Despite me, son. And you are changed-"

"For the better."

"You suffered incredibly. The moment in the storm, it was-"

"Temporary."

Linda watched them both in this exchange, smiling softly.

_Lucifer is not the same as he was,_ came Trixie's voice in her mind like a thought, _but he does not see that._

Linda's eyes widened. "Uh..."

_My Father thinks I am not fully as I was. He does not understand._

"Holy sh... Use your words, both of you!" she yelped, holding her head.

"Sorry," they both said in unison.

Trixie's little hands formed tight fists.

"I let myself be _controlled,_" she growled, "by an enemy of my own making. I let my creation come to the brink of ruin while I flailed as a helpless human child. I have never felt so powerless! I have never felt a wounding such as that before! I AM ENRAGED THAT MY ENEMY HAD THAT POWER OVER ME!"

The building around them began to quake.

"Oh, crap," Linda mumbled, grasping her chair and staring at the swaying walls as her books, ornaments, and pictures fell to the ground around her.

Lucifer's eyes widened as he grasped Trixie's shoulder. "Father, please calm down."

But Trixie's eyes were closed, her fists white and pressed against her legs, as she roared words that didn't fit her small frame at all.

"I WAS POWERLESS! I COULD NOT STOP IT! IT WAS ALL MY FAULT!"

Linda shrieked as the words began to pulse in the space, rippling the fabric of the room as Trixie continued to shout, shifting from the words of a young child to a cacophony of sound that shredded Linda's eardrums and threatened to pulverize the pounding muscle in her chest.

Lucifer's face turned to her in shock and fear, then burst into light as his wings snapped out behind him.

The light claimed everything, sending Linda's mind spinning in a space with no beginning or end, as the voice of the most powerful celestial of all warped everything else around her, opening deep wounds in reality, closing them and opening them again, to a chorus of tones beyond the comprehension of her being.

Then a new voice rose - one she _knew_ \- speaking in shimmering notes punctuated by deep metallic clangs that melded and rose and fell, while the light embracing her pulsed in time.

And through the insane experience of the moment, Linda new that she was being protected from forces that would have otherwise torn her apart.

The cacophony responded, each utterance a fresh wound upon the space, answered by the voice of an angel growing ever more concordant and melodic.

The wild buffeting of God's rage and grief abated, as the light grew in strength and the voice rose above everything, then slowly softened and undulated in calming gentle waves.

The sounds left the spectrum of the impossible, fading down to the sobbing of a child.

The shaking of the world subsided.

And slowly the light retracted, drawing back into the form of Lucifer, his wings arched protectively around Trixie, curled against his chest.

Cradling her, he murmured words that chimed through the space.

Slowly she relaxed, her tears easing to gulping breaths and sighs.

Linda's mind and body vibrated, drawing slowly back from terror, confusion, and the incredible love that had saturated everything in the reach of Lucifer's light.

She sagged back into her chair.

"Wow," she whispered.

Trixie shifted with a small groan, hiding her face in Lucifer's jacket.

"Father," he murmured, pulling back in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I'm mortified," she mumbled from behind a shield of Armani. "I completely lost it. I'm so terribly sorry."

Lucifer smirked.

"You did almost atomize my therapist."

With another groan, she shifted further in.

"Father, this suit is not tailored for two. Please extract yourself."

Trixie pulled free with a few sniffs and sank back against the couch, her gaze fixed on her hands, curled in her lap.

Lucifer released a long, slow breath. Then he drew his wings in with a shrug, straightened his suit and sat back.

Smiling.

"Wow," Linda breathed again.

The smile slipped. "Are you alright, doctor?"

She nodded, a little too rapidly. The room swam, but righted itself soon enough.

Linda shook her head in wonder.

"That was incredible," she said softly.

"Celestial yelling matches often are," Lucifer said with a smirk.

Linda shook her head more firmly.

"No. Not that."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I've just witnessed an act of _immense_ love and care," she said softly. "What you just did was _wonderful,_ Lucifer. You brought your father back from the brink of overwhelming pain, while saving me from the brunt of all of it."

Lucifer just smiled.

"That's what I meant," Trixie said in a small voice. "When I said he'd changed."

Linda sighed. "Trixie - _God_ \- your son has always been protective of the ones he loves. That hasn't changed."

Trixie gave a conciliatory half-shrug.

"And he very clearly loves you."

Trixie's eyes grew soft, and a small smile spread on her face.

"When you are not shitting on my shoes," Lucifer clarified.

"I'm sorry about the bird."

"I am too," Lucifer breathed. "Those were expensive shoes."

Linda smirked.

"How do you feel?" she asked God.

Trixie squished back into the couch, frowning thoughtfully.

Then she smiled again.

"I feel better."

"Very good."

"Shouting is very therapeutic I have found," Lucifer murmured. He looked intently at Trixie. "Will you head my words then, father?"

She nodded.

Linda looked to Lucifer. "What words?"

"I told my Father that all was in the past now, and-"

"Nontemporal being, hello," Trixie said, waving, "I am always in the past, the present, and the future. Totally doesn't apply."

"Shh. _Metaphorically,_" Lucifer said to Trixie, before looking back at Linda. "And I said that the fault was not all his to bear."

Linda sank back.

"That's an incredible statement from you, Lucifer. Do you believe it?"

Lucifer released a loud breath, and nodded.

"I do."

Linda felt a great swell of pride.

This was huge.

"I'm proud of you, Lucifer."

Trixie smiled and reached out to place her hand on Lucifer's.

"I am too, son."

Lucifer looked at her, gave a small smile, then blinked and shook his head with a little tsk.

"No, you cannot drive home!"

"Plleeease?" Trixie cried, squeezing her little hands together in supplication. "I'm 'metaphorically' older than the universe right now, so the twelve year old thing doesn't even count!"

"It never stops," Lucifer said, staring at Linda with a pained expression.

And she laughed, simply delighted by what she'd seen of the relationship the two shared.

The ruler of heaven and the ruler of hell, reconciled.

"Those terms are completely inaccurate," Lucifer said. "I have no dominion over hell any more."

"Yeah," Trixie said nodding. "And I wasn't the king of heaven. I _am_ heaven. And everything else."

"Which he never tires of telling me," Lucifer grumbled.

Linda sighed.

"New rule. No mind reading during therapy."

"Whatever," Trixie said with a smirk, before giving Linda the most beautiful smile.

"Before I remember I'm Trixie... I want to say thank you."

"Oh," Linda said with a smile, "you're wel-"

Light bloomed around the girl and from her, rippling and shimmering through the space, in every color imaginable, and in colors beyond imagination, until all Linda could see and feel and understand was the warmth and pure pulsing light of absolute and unconditional love.

"Oh," was all she managed to say, until she was lost to it utterly - enveloped and embraced outside of time, in a space where she was one with every human, every animal, every tree and stone and blade of grass. Every planet and every star. She breathed in the vibrance of love and exhaled all of the hurts and pains of her life, and every part of her was healed, even that weird little bit on the bottom of her left lung.

Finally, after what seemed a lifetime, she returned. The room resolved slowly, and she could see again.

And she laughed, feeling delighted and cherished and blessed. Everything was vivid and sparkling, every sound was like the chorus of a song. Her body buzzed, feeling younger, stronger and lighter than it had in a very long time.

She spent a long time just gaping as her gaze wandered the room, floating over the two incredible beings before her, shimmering in a soft light, as they both watched her in different ways.

Trixie smiling.

Lucifer rolling his eyes.

"It is all well and good you doing that, Father, but I am the one that must deal with the inevitable crash that follows."

"Wwwwwoww," Linda breathed, before raising her arms in the air with a loud whoop. "I LOVE EVERYBODY! EVERYTHING IS AMAZING!"

Trixie giggled.

Releasing a soft, contended sigh, she leaned against Lucifer's arm, watching as Linda rose from her chair and started dancing around the room, singing enthusiastically off-key.

"Thank you, son."

Lucifer's dark eyes flicked to her.

He smiled.

"You are welcome, Father."

She shifted then, pulling back slightly to look at him.

Linda was bouncing and flowing and skipping through the room like a deranged ballerina.

Trixie scrunched up her face. "Therapy is weird."

Lucifer was silence for one moment, then patted her hand.

"Indeed. Shall we go, Beatrice?"

She nodded, smiling, and stood as he pulled her up by the hand.

"Doctor," Lucifer called to the bouncing woman, "call Amenadiel to take you home."

Linda shrieked happily. "I LOVE MY ANGEL MAN! I LOVE MY ANGEL BABY!"

"Wonderful to hear. I shall call him for you. I am grateful, Linda."

"WOOHOO!"

He pulled the door open and led Trixie through.

She smiled up at him hopefully.

"Can I drive home?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But I'd be safe! My feet can reach the pedals now!"

"No."

She scowled.

"You're so mean."

Lucifer simply held her hand and smiled.


	62. Hug Things Out

The church was old and dim, filled with dark, worn pews between massive marble columns and saintly statues and the faint whiff of incense. Multi-colored light streamed down from the windows across the altar, draped with a cream tasseled stole covered in crosses embroidered in gold.

It was beautifully quiet, a rare moment in the morning just before the services started for the day. The priest had opened the church for confessions.

But nobody else was here but Ella.

And that suited her just fine.

She'd loved this place, and used to come almost every morning to check in with the Big Guy upstairs and set her heart right for the day.

But it'd been hard, lately. Charlotte's death over a year ago had hit everyone so terribly, and the awfulness of it had turned something off inside of Ella.

Made her wonder.

On top of everything going on in the world... where the hell was the Big Guy? Why did these things keep happening?

Why did everything hurt so much?

Ella sat, staring up at the cross and Jesus' tortured form over the altar. At the rainbow facets of holy scenes and figures in the windows. She stared at their lightly painted faces, and the bland expressions each one held.

Was that how it worked?

You had to stop caring?

"God," she said out loud, meaning to add something, maybe a question, but it all fell flat and she didn't.

She sighed, plucked the envelope from the little shelf in front of her and stuffed in a couple of tens.

She might not be coming to church for services anymore, but it still meant a lot to so many. They had fewer people coming now too, so they needed all the help they could get.

With another sigh, Ella stood, glancing back up to the cross before dropping her gaze and shuffling to the end of the pew.

And as she went through a quick, irritated genuflection, a sound rose from a pew a few yards up on the right.

Snoring.

Deep, easy breaths punctuated by a dolphin-esque squeak.

Ella rose slowly, and finally noticed that what she'd thought was a pile of sheets was actually something white slowly rising and falling.

She frowned, staring at it more closely.

And she took a step nearer.

Was it a homeless guy?

That just made her sadder. How long would the priest let them sleep here? Probably not long since mass was about to start.

Her heart swam out to them, whoever they were, as her heart tended to do. Always swimming out to people, hoping to help and make happy.

Her heart was getting a little tired.

But, perhaps... she could buy this person breakfast?

Smiling then, she stepped a little closer, even as her mind started to skip over what the white stuff really was.

Feathers.

Those were feathers, right? Rising and falling as whoever it was breathed?

Ella covered her mouth with a little snort and looked up quickly at the confessionals.

Craap. Someone had come in here after a party or something, wearing angel wings, and now they were going to be in sooo much trouble.

She giggled, and stepped closer.

"Psst," she whispered as she stepped beside the pew.

A man's arm hung down, one finger outstretched, from under the rather impressive wing. Blonde hair lay in lazy curls against the dark wood.

That was good work on those wings. Like, the best she'd ever seen.

She'd been an angel a few times at Halloween, but she'd stopped after a while because a few people had told her it was a little on the nose. She still had the wings though - all different shapes and sizes and colors.

Smiling, she scooched into the pew in front of him, kneeling on the hard, dark wood, and she leaned over to touch his wings.

Because they were astounding... they looked real!

And in the light from the church they looked like they were glowing.

"Wow," she said out loud, drawing her hand down from the crest to where the long feathers curled about the man's body.

The man's arm twitched.

His breathing shifted, growing softer and lighter.

And with a loud snort, he woke up.

The arm pulled in under the wing, and another emerged, stretching out above his head along the pew, as his legs did the same.

Muscled yet slender.

Ella watched appreciatively.

With a loud moaning yawn, the man's face was revealed, as the giant wing rose up over Ella's head and unfolded to stretch gracefully to the ceiling.

Ella's eyes grew huge as she watched the feathered limb soar, then sweep through the space a few times, buffeting her with air laced with incense, before it folded again, laying against the man's back.

The man laid stretched out along the pew, framed by wings, his head propped up on his arm, his shoulder-length hair golden and cascading, his eyes bluer than a crisp summer sky.

And completely _naked._

"Eee," Ella said, pointing at him.

All thoughts had fled from her brain.

The man's features seemed chiseled from some sculptor's masterwork - cupid bow lips, an aquiline nose, perfectly arched brows, a gently rounded face.

Those eyes locked onto hers, deeply and radiantly blue, and blinked slowly as the man yawned once more.

"Bbbuh," Ella said, much more eloquently.

Smiling, the man slowly sat up.

His wings stretched out again when he was upright, then folded in one by one, settling on either side of him.

He remained very naked.

And quite... generously endowed.

A smile touched his face as he looked at her, and it was as if the glorious sun had risen after a terrifying thunderstorm.

"Greetings, Ella Lopez," the man said, in a voice like the most beautiful song she'd ever heard.

His smile widened, as her heart jumped and skipped in her chest and her thoughts skittered and bounced in her brain.

And his gaze traveled over her in wonder.

"You have an exceptional light," he said softly.

She blinked, the strangeness of the words drawing her back from speechless, thoughtless awe.

"What?" she whispered.

This was an angel, right? This was an ACTUAL ANGEL?! He'd SAID HER NAME! THIS WAS AN ANGEL! SHE WAS STARING AT AN ANGEL!

"You have an exceptional light," he repeated, and smiling, he closed his eyes, leaning in slightly as he faced her.

As if he were basking in it.

"Uh... okay, um... are you...?"

She couldn't say it. It was right there, but she couldn't say it.

"It reminds me of home," he said softly, his eyes still closed.

Ella stared in awe at his stunning face, radiating a beautiful peace.

And his perfect body... radiating an amazing _hotness._

"Hey!" a man's voice yelled from across the church.

The priest was standing next to the confessionals, his hands on his hips, his graying hair trimmed sharply about his head. His brows were silver and bushy and furrowed in irritation.

"Out!" he yelled, pointing to the entrance. "No cosplay in church!"

"But," Ella shouted back, gesturing to the entirety of the winged man in front of her. "He's an angel!"

"I am an _archangel,_" the man said in his beautiful voice. And he stretched again, his deliciously defined arms linked and pulling over his head. "I am God's favorite son, Michael."

"He's the archangel Michael!" Ella shrieked, her arms flailing at him. "And he's really naked!"

"I'm calling the police now," the priest grumbled, storming off.

Ella looked back at Michael, concerned and confused and overwhelmed.

And her heart melted in her chest.

Because he was simply smiling at her.

"May I stay with you?" he asked.

"What?" she squeaked.

"I cannot return to Heaven. I have tried multiple times. It appears my father wishes me to stay here. To learn something."

He snorted, his gaze sliding away briefly. But then he smiled at her, beatifically.

"You feel like home. May I stay with you?"

"I..." Ella started, and stopped. "But... I'm just..."

"Radiant," he finished sincerely, and slowly he stood before her.

She watched every inch of his beautiful skin rising, and simply stared.

"I have talents I can perform on your behalf."

Ella blinked rapidly and looked up at him wide-eyed. "Talents?"

"I am exceptional at smiting. I would be happy to bring God's wrath down upon any that stand in your way."

And he seemed to glow even more fiercely, as a strange breeze drifted in from nowhere, rippling dramatically through his hair.

Ella frowned up at him, confused and incredibly awed.

Then she shook her head quickly.

"No, I don't think I need anybody smited. I get along well with everybody. And, I kinda like to hug things out, you know?"

Michael's glorious smile faded, along with the light. His hair flopped back against his shoulders.

"Oh."

"But," Ella continued, feeling badly, "who knows, right? I mean, I'm sure there's somebody out there that needs a good smiting! Maybe not a full smite, but, like, a minor smite? A half-smite maybe? A punch?"

"Yes!" Michael said, grinning again. "Is that acceptable then? May I take shelter with you?"

Ella smiled, but a little part of her brain was whispering in irritation.

_Okay, he's an angel, sure, like that makes sense. But you've brought a lot of hot guys home, and how's that turned out?_

Michael's hand grasped her arm gently.

The touch was warm and beautiful. She leaned into it, her eyes drifting closed.

Because his touch felt a little like home too.

"I will not be a taxing guest, I promise," he said softly.

She opened her eyes again, finding herself staring at his... endowment.

"You can be a little taxing," she whispered, before blinking rapidly and standing bolt upright.

"I mean, I'm so sorry, I'm..."

Her cheeks flushed bright red as she clamped her hand over her mouth.

_In a church and everything!_

Michael tilted his head with a grin.

"Do not apologize, Ella Lopez. I enjoy that activity greatly, and the paradise of sleep it brings."

"Oh my gawd," she snorted.

_Sexy angel likes sex!_

Giggling, Ella placed her hand on his, and his fingers clasped gently over hers.

The touch of his bare skin rippled through her entire being. She laughed and smiled more brightly than she had for a year.

And he smiled too, as his brow furrowed in the smallest expression of surprise.

The doors behind him opened, and in walked two darkly-uniformed cops as the priest rushed over to meet them.

"Oh no," Ella whispered, looking from them to Michael. Then down at his lack of pants and back up.

He grinned. "Where do you live, Ella Lopez? In what cardinal direction from here? How many leagues?"

Her brain churned madly.

Leagues? How much was a league?! And where was her apartment from here?!

The maps from her phone flicked through her mind, as the cops drew nearer, hands at their sides.

"Excuse me, sir," one began, as the priest watch crossly.

"Guide me," Michael said softly, his arms enveloping her, drawing her in and _lifting_ her as his great wings stretched and beat the air once.

"OH MY GOD!" she cried, throwing her arms around him and hanging on desperately as her feet left the ground. "NORTH! LOTS OF LEAGUES!"

"What the HOLY FUCK!" one of the cops shouted, whipping out his gun.

With a laugh, Michael twisted, his brilliant white wings grandly sweeping the air.

And with a flurry of wing beats, they were gone.

The priest fell to his knees.

The cop with the gun started sobbing as his arm slowly fell to his side.

And his partner, unable to process what she'd just seen at all, smacked him on the back of the head.

"NO SHOOTING ANGELS IN CHURCH!"

* * *

_SPOILERS: Btw, if you're just reading this chapter having come from season 5a, and haven't seen my take on a certain blonde angel in my previous fanfic, and earlier in this one, you might be confused. My take on that angel is not the show's, obviously, even more so now. DONE WITH SPOILERS._

_Anyhoo. I'd expected this might happen quite a few chapters back, and wasn't sure how it would go. I was happy to see where it went._

_Who knows what this particular pairing might bring. But with both of them feeling at home in each other's presence, that's not a bad start._

_Hope everyone is doing well. Close to the end now. I keep saying 'a few chapters to go' after every chapter. Soon that will be accurate! :D_

_Leave a comment if you can, and thank you to all who've done so throughout the story - you're wonderful :)_


	63. Violently and Beautifully

_Hi everyone :) Apologies for the delay. Crazy week. It's going to be crazy for another week, then I think it'll settle down a little. Thank god. I'm exhausted._

_Anyhoo. Here's the third to last chapter. _

_Firstly, I want to apologize (fully tongue in cheek) to everyone for what's about to happen. :D_

_Nobody dies. Nobody gets hurt. Nothing like that. __It's just... well, you'll see._

_Thanks to everyone who's left a comment. They make my day, as always. Hope others will leave them, if they have a moment. I hope you're all well and that life is treating you right._

_It's time to go back to Hell._

* * *

"My Queen," the impressively large, multi-limbed demon said before the throne, "I don't understand."

Mazikeen sat on the throne, her legs outstretched and crossed, her hand propped against her cheek.

She rolled her eyes.

"What don't you understand?"

"Why do I have to _garden?_" the demon asked, his eyes looking wetter than normal as his nictitating membranes swept over them.

Mazikeen stared at him for a moment, before pointing with the same hand in a general away direction.

"Because we have a garden."

"Yes, but-"

"A large garden."

"Yeah, I understand _that_ but-"

"And you're large."

"I am, my Queen, and I thank you for your observation of my largeness, but-"

"And you've got like, what? Seven arms?"

"Eight, actually, but that last one only comes out when I'm excited."

Mazikeen looked a little less bored and bent forward, studying him. "Really?" She tapped her lips, her eyes growing even more interested as they wandered his dark, stony skin. "I'll need to check that out later."

"Yes, my Queen, so-"

"But anyway," she continued, sitting back again before sweeping his outline with her finger, "large demon, lots of limbs, perfect for a large garden, with lots of fruit. Go. Don't kill anything green. Pluck fruit." Her lips tugged back in a smirk. "And then later, perhaps... you can _pluck_ other things."

The demon made an uncertain, concerned noise, then ducked its massive head, and turned to leave.

The turning itself took quite a few minutes as it shuffled back and forth in the space trying to clear its muscled bulk through the arching pillars. It finally crabwalked down the entire length of the walkway.

Mazikeen flopped back again.

The voices of the damned had diminished greatly since her best friend had swept so many souls away for reincarnation. Only a few thousand swam in her head now, and they were greatly softer, calmer, and generally happier than they had ever been.

And Mazikeen understood that she was the one who had made this happen.

She understood that the great changes across Hell were for the better.

But she was lonely.

Hell was growing strangely beautiful around her. Vines had started curling around the branching tines that arched like antlers around her throne, and flowers had bloomed, blood-red, above.

It was a little embarrassing.

She'd spoken to her mother, not really knowing if her landmass of a mom could hear her, asking if she could perhaps stop growing flowers on what was meant to be a wickedly imposing throne of Hell.

But they had turned briefly pink instead, and rather than argue further, she'd let it be, breaking the limbs of anyone who dared comment on the floral arrangement when they came to ask something of their Queen.

And there were soooo many questions.

"Why is the sky blue?"

"Why is the ground wet?"

"How far off was I with the whole East Indies route, anyway? It couldn't have been much! 500 miles? A thousand? You must tell me!"

Christopher hadn't been taken with the first batch of resurrectees and was being a whiny bitch about it, hanging around the throne room, asking every few months if God had been back by.

"No." Was her most common answer to him, for anything he asked.

It was tiring.

And lonely.

She kept the arena matches up though, as brief as they lasted, where she fought souls who truly felt up to the challenge or her brethren who were bored.

Many of her brethren were bored, which is why, if they weren't up for having their asses kicked in the arena, she was sending them out on garden duty.

Some hadn't really grasped the concept of what gardening meant. Many came back to proudly proclaim, while covered in the shredded remnants of leaves, bark and the pulpy mass of fruit and flowers, that they had laid waste to acres.

That they had taught those plants a lesson they were not likely to forget.

And that, while the lack of screaming had been a little unnerving, they did feel the plants were sufficiently punished, in the end.

It took a great deal of self-control for Mazikeen to not crack skulls with these morons and instead calmly explain that the plants didn't need to be punished, and that they were in fact laying waste to a part of their mother.

They were mostly horrified after that, which was almost as satisfying as a good skull cracking, and went on to perform the task with a little more care.

Leaving her sitting on her throne, alone, watching the strange clouds above, and the rising boughs of green, and what looked to be a bird soaring in the distance.

A falcon maybe?

She snorted.

Great.

"Mother, you are overdoing it."

But as it soared nearer her eyes narrowed.

And slowly she stood from her throne as her expression shifted to anger.

Then very quickly to shock.

As, with a rush of great tawny wings, the angel carrying Eve landed on the stone floor of the chamber before her.

The woman she'd loved so terribly, and had been so terribly hurt by, smiled at Maze with warm almond eyes as she lowered from the grasp of the angel - a woman Mazikeen hadn't seen before.

Eve wore a black dress - simple but incredibly sexy. She looked around herself, her mouth falling open in wonder.

Mazikeen couldn't seem to speak.

Eve stepped closer and finally gave her a blazing smile.

"Mazikeen, this is amaz-"

"I was ordered to bring Eve here by God."

Mazikeen dragged her eyes from Eve to stare at the angel. The woman's chin was tilted imperiously. She was clothed in leather garments in all shades of brown, with a chest piece decorated in twining metallic patterns. A silver spear poked up to the sky behind her.

"Great," Maze snapped. "Go away."

Eve drew even closer, pulling Maze's gaze back. She stood stiffly as Eve stretched out a hand to brush her cheek.

Those warm, familiar fingers made contact.

And she didn't know what to do.

Why was Eve here? What was the point of this?

This had ended, hadn't it?

This had hurt before... and she didn't want that hurt again...

"I heard what happened and had to come see," Eve said softly, her smile growing a little crooked in a way Maze had always loved. Her voice rose in excitement. "You're really the Que-"

Into their view stepped the angel, wedging herself between them.

"I was also ordered by God to fight you," she said, her eyes fixed on Mazikeen.

Eve frowned. "Remiel, um, we're catching up, can yo-"

Remiel shook her head, her gaze still fixed on Maze. "I cannot leave until I have fought the Queen of Hell."

Mazikeen stared back at her, curious.

She'd like the way that'd sounded. Not just because of the title, deserved and wonderful. But the _way_ it had been said.

The angel's eyes were dark and a little sad.

That was interesting.

But even more interesting was the fact that Maze knew who this was now.

"You killed Lucifer," she said, her voice flat.

Remiel nodded, straightening.

"Yes, I caused his death. I seek no forgiveness for it. I was misg-ghk!"

The angel staggered back from Mazikeen's punch - a deadly blow to the throat. She seemed to catch the smallest telegraph of the move and shifted to lessen the momentum of the strike.

A seasoned warrior.

This would be fun.

"Um, could you two do this later?" Eve said, as Maze pushed roughly past her to finish what she'd started.

Remiel stepped further back, coughing and gasping as she pulled her spear out from behind her back and twirled it swiftly.

"Fancy," Mazikeen growled, pulling her own knives out and twirling them into play.

"You like a surprise attack," Remiel said, her voice rough. She straightened with the spear in both hands, crossed in front of her body.

Mazikeen watched the subtle shifts of the angel's arms and feet, waiting for the tells, hoping for a vulnerable spot when Remiel launched a thrusting attack.

But the angel's stance was impeccable. Every move was precise and measured.

"Doesn't everyone?" Maze eventually answered, circling to match the angel's movements, and fascinated by the look in Remiel's eye.

There was no emotional layer to this fight for the angel at all.

Michael had vanity. Amenadiel had righteousness. Lucifer had rage. Even Uriel had the need to prove himself.

There was nothing here but a warrior ready to fight.

She liked that.

A smiling Eve waved to her near the throne.

"Maze? I was hop-"

"No, I do not," Remiel said over her. "It is the attack of someone who expects to lose. Someone who knows that cheating is the only hope they have of landing a blow."

Mazikeen laughed.

"Yeah?" she said, twirling her knives again. "I think it's smart. And I like to take advantage of every _opportunity._"

With the word, she whipped her arm up, releasing her blade with the force of a bolt across the chamber at Remiel's head.

Remiel caught it as she twisted to her left, and without losing momentum, swung it right back.

Mazikeen snatched it from the air and flung it lower, hoping for the meat of Remiel's thigh.

But the angel deflected it a quick sweep of her spear, sending the blade skittering across the chamber floor.

Mazikeen straightened a little, looking back from her blade at the woman.

"Nice."

"Thank you," Remiel said, before launching forward with her spear, with no muscle twitch to broadcast the move at all.

Mazikeen dodged left, and swept around with her foot to catch Remiel as she passed, but the angel had already shifted, swinging back with the spear towards her head. Bending back to avoid it, Maze spun with another kick that the angel blocked, before cutting in with a strike meant to snap her knee.

But Maze flipped back and out of the way, landing ready for battle once more.

"Excellent," Remiel said, focused on her completely.

No gloating. No irritation. No calculating glare.

A warrior's sincere assessment.

Mazikeen smiled.

"Thanks."

Eve, looking a little frustrated, moved back towards the throne.

"Well, okay, I guess I'll just..."

She sat briefly and stroked the curved arms of the throne with a smile before jumping off with a screech.

The seat had sprouted thorns of stone.

Mazikeen used the distraction to fire another blade at Remiel - without looking, the angel shifted to avoid it, then followed through, launching her own spear.

Twisting, Maze plucked the wood staff from the air and turned to face Remiel, twirling the spear between her hands.

"Great balance," she said, before sweeping the spear behind her and readying for another round.

The smallest flicker of surprise touched Remiel's brow.

"What?" Maze asked with a smirk, seeing it, before she crossed the room to attack, the blades of the spear cutting through the air with an audible hum.

Eve sank crosslegged on the floor, her chin propped on her hand, her elbow on her knee.

"I just want-"

"You wield that very well," Remiel said, interrupting Eve yet again, as she dodged Mazikeen's every sweep and thrust. "Not many can do the weapon justice. Many," she ducked and lashed out with a strike with the flat of her hand that Maze blocked, "see it as too unwieldy."

Mazikeen whirled and spun, feeling the weapon's beautiful balance, the tug and flow of the wood against her hand, as Remiel met her every strike and thrust with a deflection and return of her own that Maze leapt and swept and twirled from.

And her smile grew brilliant - this was a dance, and it'd been so long since she'd danced with someone in this way. Violently and beautifully, with no restriction, no limit, no expectation.

Just the gloriously wild rush of battle with an opponent who matched her perfectly.

The angel's sadness was gone. Her eyes were bright, her mouth stretching in her own smile as she ducked and spun and struck.

And Mazikeen laughed.

With unrestrained joy.

"Hey," Eve said quietly, from somewhere.

"You are exceptional!" Remiel cried, as the dance grew more frenzied and wild.

Her laugh joined Maze's as every blow was met by the other, transformed and transmuted and returned with a passion that grew beyond the bounds of the fight.

And Mazikeen felt the strangest thing, every time she caught Remiel's eye and twirled and dodged and met it again.

As something wounded and closed inside slowly began to open.

"You are beautiful," she said back in one moment of meeting, in a voice just above a whisper.

And they parted with that abruptly, the dance complete.

The spear lowered in Remiel's grasp. The weapon had passed between them too often to count.

And the angel stared at her in shock.

"What?" Remiel said, her chest heaving, her skin wet. Her full lips were parted softly in question.

The small wounded thing in Mazikeen began to close again.

What was she thinking?

She had forgotten how to be smart, and sharp, and safe!

"I..." she started, then quickly shook her head, walking over to retrieve one of her knives. "Nevermind, I just enjoyed-"

The spear clattered to the ground, steps followed behind her, and Maze twisted to stave off a new attack.

But Remiel's hand caught her arm and the blade held there, and she stood silently for a long moment, her dark eyes searching Mazikeen's own.

"You said that I was beautiful," she said finally, her hand warm and firm against Maze's skin.

Mazikeen stared back, her eyes wide and wary.

Then she gave a half-laugh - something to dismiss the moment, to retreat. "I was only-"

"You are _glorious,_" Remiel said, her voice softening with awe, her eyes still seeking something in Maze's gaze. "I never imagined..."

Tears swam in Mazikeen's eyes, as something small and fragile within heard those words... and their truth in the one who'd spoken them.

"I..." she whispered, shifting slightly back. Unsure. Unprepared.

And with a fierce light in her eyes, Remiel pursued, her hand shifting to cradle Mazikeen's cheek, as her other rested firmly and possessively over the demon's heart.

The hand blazed against Mazikeen's skin as she watched Remiel closing the distance for a kiss, dumbstruck.

Soft lips engulfed her own.

And the touch was a song of fire that burned through her body and the bright shimmering fabric of her new soul.

With a gasp, she pulled back, her eyes wide and blinking, her skin sparking.

"Wow," she whispered.

And grinning, Remiel kissed her again.

...

Eve was cursing as she stumbled through the thick undergrowth of Hell's new garden, smacking branches aside with the broken shoes in her hand.

She had no idea where she was, and had no idea how to get back, and she was pretty sure something weird was going on between Remiel and the hot demon babe she was trying to make up with!

She stopped, and stood, staring up into the leafy canopy above, trying to figure out the position of the sun.

Because that's how she used to find her way, ages and ages and ages and ages ago. North, east, south, west. They used different words back then, but the idea was the same. The sun would tell you what to do.

And now she had no idea what to do.

The idea of being a queen's queen had been exciting! She'd prayed to God for an escort down to Hell when she'd found out from her son, who'd just snuck out of Hell in someone else's dead body, and her creator had obligingly sent the stiffest angel in existence, Remiel, as her guide.

No talk on the trip, no smiling. No nothing. Remiel was sad about something, and Eve tried to coax it out of her, but the angel stayed mute.

_So boring._

But it had been so good to see Mazikeen again. The demon was still so sexy, and even sexier in front of that throne! How amazing! A demon ruling Hell!

She'd been ready to jump Maze, and make up for the pain she'd caused. Pain that was still so clear on Maze's face.

Then mute Remiel stopped being so mute.

And she started to see something as they fought, as Mazikeen focused so totally on the angel and they did all of these cool things trying to hit each other.

When she started realizing something was happening, that she was going to lose her chance if she didn't do something _soon_, the chamber did something weird.

The floor rose up, blocking her view of the fight, and the weirdly hot sweaty chemistry thing going on between Remiel and Maze.

She tried to move around it, and it _widened._

She called out to Maze a few times as it started moving towards her, forcing her back towards the end of the chamber.

Where a hole opened up, and, with a quick ripple of the floor, she was tossed through.

To tumble down the side of a forested hill.

And aside from being a little painful - it was confusing!

Because she was sure Hell wasn't supposed to be _green._

It was a very familiar shade of green too. Very new. Very primordial.

Very... Eden-ish.

No matter where she turned, nothing looked familiar, and yet, it was like being back at the beginning of things, and any moment Adam was going to poke his head out from behind some tree and show her a new rock he'd found.

"Great rock, sweetie," she'd say, in a language that wasn't quite that sophisticated.

And off he'd go to play with it for a while as she rolled her eyes, and went looking for the dark-haired hottie who'd appeared once or twice, grinning at her from the shadows.

He knew how to have fun.

Blowing a straggly strand of leaf-encrusted hair from her face, Eve stomped onward, hoping to find some way to get back to the chamber, and back to Maze, and back to a good time.

But instead, the thick forest parted, opening up to a wide meadow of smaller trees bearing fruits of shapes and colors she'd never seen before.

"Ooh!" she said, smiling. "Pretty!"

She was hungry too. Wouldn't hurt to eat one, surely?

As she pulled one with firm blue flesh from the nearest tree, movement caught her eye, followed by a deep grunt.

She stepped forward, watching as the moving shape resolved into the dark figure of a enormous demon, his brows furrowed with effort over eyes of gold, his back muscles rippling under skin that looked almost stone-like, as his arms worked tirelessly, sweeping under and around and over branches to pluck every fruit in sight.

She smiled and stepped closer.

"Hello," she said brightly, with a little wave, one hand still holding the blue fruit.

The demon jerked back, his gold eyes widening, his thick lips pulling back in confusion from jagged teeth.

Then he straightened, looming over her, as his arms slowly lowered by his side.

She counted them in admiration.

"You have seven arms, wow. I've never met anyone with more than two."

The demon tilted his head to look at her, as his mouth seemed to stretch into a smile.

"Hello, human," he said, in a deeply resonant voice.

"You're working here?" she said, gesturing to the trees around them.

With a great rise and fall of his massive chest, he nodded. "I am... gardening."

Eve watched a small rivulet of sweat slide down his dark skin, slipping between some very nicely defined muscles and disappearing as it met the leather swaddling his groin.

A very large groin.

And she smiled.

Because maybe she would have some fun here after all.

Stepping forward with lowering eyes, she reached out to brush the hard skin of his arm.

"A demon gardener?" she said, her smile turning crooked. "I like the way that sounds."

And as the massive man stared down at her with a widening gaze and a goofy grin, something happened that made Eve gasp and clap her hands with glee.

"You have an eighth arm!"


	64. A Little Ravished

Lucifer's lips traveled hungrily along the pulsing skin of Chloe's throat as she gasped against his cheek, her body eagerly pressed to his and shivering with the warm touch of his fingers against her skin.

Her own fingers fumbled beneath his jacket as their mouths met again, scrambling to liberate buttons that were way too small and fiddly - desperately she tore the fabric open as he lifted her bodily onto himself with a sound somewhere between a moan and growl.

And with a bright ding, the elevator doors opened.

Lucifer lowered Chloe with a tsk as she sighed against him.

"The ride is never quite long enough."

A cop stood waiting, his eyes darkly shadowed and pinched with weariness.

Grumbling, he stomped in.

"Every goddamn time..."

Lucifer drew Chloe out with a smile, his lips and cheek smeared with Chloe's favorite shade of red, his hair mussed adorably, his white shirt torn open over the valley of his sternum.

She grinned back, her ponytail very left of center and fringed by strands defying gravity in all directions. She laughed as he drew her in for a spin across the floor to her desk.

And there they stood, staring into each other's eyes for a few very lost moments as the station around them collectively rolled their eyes and resumed work.

"Hey, Chloe."

"Yeah, Dan?" Chloe answered, still gazing into Lucifer's dark eyes, enjoying the shimmering embers that burned there.

"Got a perp in interrogation on the Dozowski case. Figured you'd want first crack?"

A manila folder crept into view between their faces, wobbling up and down, as Lucifer's eyes narrowed in a scowl.

"Detective _Douche,_" he snapped, turning to glare at Dan. "We were having a moment."

"Oh, I know," Dan said back, giving him a big grin.

With a smirk, Chloe took the folder, reacquainting herself quickly with the most recent details.

"This is great," she said, flipping to the arrest record. "You think he was meeting with the supplier?"

"Oh, yeah," Dan said. "They just got a little close and he made them. Had no choice but to bring him in."

Nodding, she closed the folder, her gaze settling on the door to the interrogation room. "I'm on it, thanks Dan."

"Sure thing. You want anything, I'll be at my desk."

"I will make sure she wants for nothing, Daniel," Lucifer purred.

Dan rolled his eyes as he walked away.

Chloe tugged on Lucifer's arm to pull him to the room. "What's with the 'Detective douche' stuff? You haven't called him that in ages."

Lucifer hummed contentedly. "Indeed."

Nothing followed except a growing grin. With a little snort Chloe walked over to the door.

It felt good to back here with him, to slip back into the familiar rhythm of their partnership.

"Been a little while since we've done this together," she said with a smile.

Lucifer smiled back as he reached for the doorknob.

"For a part of me, this is the very first time."

And he opened the door for her.

Chloe froze, her eyes locked on his smile, her mind locked on the words he'd used.

_the very first time_

Then she blinked, staring over at the suspect, who was watching them have their little strange moment. Putting her game face on, she walked through, trying to push what she'd just heard aside to focus on what she was really after.

A location.

The familiar scrape of the metal chair helped her focus as she pulled it out to sit down. Slapping the folder on the table, she met the eye of one Mark Slatter, a man with way too much chest hair, arm hair, hair hair, and a mustache you could probably beat someone to death with.

"We are interrogating a rug," Lucifer said with wonder, seating himself beside her.

She snorted, but quickly recovered behind the folder she tapped furiously against the table.

"Mister Slatter," she started, trying very hard to settle into the rhythm.

_For a part of me_

Frowning, she glanced at her partner.

He reached over and took the folder and her pen.

"Uh," she stammered, watching him, before snapping her gaze back to Mark.

"Mister Slatter," she repeated, effectively.

"Yeah?" he said, smirking. Then he gestured at them through the cuffs, raising his unibrow suggestively. "You two always, ah, squeeze in a little nooky before you do this sort of thing?"

"What?" she said, before following his finger to her partner. She winced. Lucifer looked like the cover of a romance novel. She probably looked a little ravished herself. With a few quick strokes, she flattened her hair into something tamer, then narrowed her eyes at the suspect.

"I'm asking the questions. Look, we know you were going to meet up with The Usher."

He smirked. "Do you?"

"Yeah, we do. Now, we need to know-"

"Why 'The Usher'," Lucifer said abruptly, scribbling something on the folder.

Mark met Lucifer's gaze. "What?"

Chloe tapped Lucifer's arm. "That's not-"

"What exactly does this person 'usher'?" he asked over her, his voice betraying his ridicule. "Hormonal teens to cinema seats? Estranged relatives to the same wedding table for a punch up? Elder patrons with hearing problems to yet another bland rendition of Beethoven's Fifth?"

"Uh," Mark said, eloquently.

"What my partner is trying to say," Chloe said quickly, desperate to guide the conversation back on track, "is if you tell us where The Usher is, we'll work on a favorable plea in court."

"That is not what I am trying to say at all," Lucifer added, looking at Chloe.

"Yes," she shot back at him with gritted teeth, "it is."

"You've got nothin' on me," Mark said slowly, confidently, leaning back in his chair. "No reason for me to talk. No idea what you're talking about anyways."

Lucifer grinned at him carnivorously.

The man's smug smile flattened at the sight. He leaned back a little further.

"We found ten kilos of coke in your apartment," Chloe said, focusing in on his discomfort.

"Planted," the man whispered, before raising a finger at Lucifer. "Can you tell him to stop looking at me like that?"

Lucifer wrote something else on the folder quickly.

Chloe tapped on Lucifer's arm to draw his attention.

"Maybe you could..." she began, gesturing from her eyes to the guy with a little nod.

"No need," he answered, pushing the folder back to her.

On it was an address, a license plate, and a phone number.

Plus a stick figure drawing of someone in an usher's cap with the word LOSER floating above.

"What's this?" she asked.

"That is The Usher," he said proudly, tapping the picture.

"No, _this._ This address?"

"That is also The Usher."

"What?" she asked, along with Mark, who'd jerked up in his seat.

"You wished to find The Usher. That is his address, the license plate of his car - an unimpressive Elantra in the most boring shade of dark blue imaginable - and his phone number. The Usher is a man of incredibly poor style, by the way. Ill-fitting pleather jackets, jeans, terrible hair. I do believe I saw a mullet."

Lucifer stopped, finally catching on to Chloe's stunned stare.

"What?" he asked.

"Where did you get this?"

He pointed at Mark.

"But I didn't say anything!" Mark shouted, his eyes bulging. "I didn't say nothin'!"

Lucifer tsked at him.

"You... you read his mind?" Chloe whispered, glancing back at the perp.

He gestured to the man with a nod. "Of course. You and I talked, and he instantly thought of everything he was not going to say. It was easy enough to pick the details - the man's mind is rather uncrowded."

"Hey!" Mark yelled, snapping on the cuffs. "That's not okay! Cops readin' minds now?! What the hell?! I've got rights! My privacy's been violated!"

"Oh, shut up," Chloe snapped, standing with the folder.

Lucifer stood with her, smiling.

"Shall we go and apprehend The Loser, Detective?"

She wanted to smile back, but couldn't.

"Sure."

* * *

_Hi everyone. So... you know how I said there were only two chapters to go?_

_Um, that is turning out to be a lie. Something rather dramatic happens in the next chapter, but I'm finding out that it's because I left something rather unresolved about a certain character who did something rather fascinating in the midst of this story._

_Soo... hold onto your hats. The next chapter is wild. Will likely post it tomorrow. :)_

_Thanks for reading, sorry about the delay, I wanted to write into it a little and see where it went. Thanks to everyone who left reviews._

_The above moment, btw, was always on the table. I really wanted to see them together in the interrogation room again. :D And I knew Lucifer, being a little different, would make things a little different. Thanks for reading! :D_


	65. Excised With Purpose

_Buckle up._

* * *

The warehouse was rather predictably dim, and Chloe's flashlight did little to fill in the gloom as she walked cautiously through the building.

Her squad had filled out behind her, to secure the exits and boundary walls before doubling back in.

And Lucifer was simply strutting by her side, tasting what he'd licked from his finger after poking it into a bag.

"There is a great deal of filler. Rather poor make."

"Lucifer."

"Yes?"

"Stop sampling the coke."

"Oh, I intend to. Absolutely disappointing."

Mouth twisting, she pushed on.

"There are three men and four women in this building."

She stopped to stare at him.

"What?"

"There are three-"

"I heard you Lucifer, I just don't understand... you're still reading minds?"

"I have never stopped. Did you know that Eric has a foot fetish?"

She blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry?!"

"Eric, one of your men. Foot fetishist. Could not stop imagining what my feet would look like in these shoes. Such a strange fascination. My feet look fantastic of course, but-"

"Lucifer."

"Yes?"

"Please stop."

He stopped obligingly, standing stock still in the middle of the darkened warehouse.

"No, I meant, stop reading minds."

He was quiet for a moment.

"That is hard to do, Chloe. Everyone thinks so loudly. It is hard to escape the incessant ponderings of humanity around me."

Frowning, she turned back to him.

Was it really that bad? Bombarded by unspoken thoughts whenever he went?

"I didn't realize," she said softly.

He smiled. "How could you?"

An ache rose in her chest suddenly. Unbidden, unwanted. Inescapable.

"Lucifer..."

"Please know, Chloe, that I do my best to ignore your thoughts, I know it unsettles you."

She shook her head slowly. "No, not that, though thank you. It's weird for me and I don't quite know what to do about that yet, but... no..."

He waited patiently.

"What you said back at the precinct?"

He nodded. "I could tell that unsettled you as well."

"You..." she frowned, looking away for a moment. Struggling to find a way to say what she needed to say.

"You aren't completely yourself, are you? Because, you do all of these things now... and... your speech is different, and-"

"It is?"

She nodded, biting her upper lip.

"It took me a little while to work it out, but... you don't use contractions anymore. Like, at all. You haven't since you came back."

He frowned, his gaze dipping briefly.

Then he slowly nodded.

"That is true."

"Are you Samael?" she asked, tears springing to her eyes, as all of her fears came rushing back with his admission.

The moments they'd shared together, his familiar mannerisms, his teasing humor, were all screaming that this was a stupid thing to ask.

But it was still there. This terrible doubt and fear.

That he wasn't really Lucifer. That Lucifer really _was_ gone. That Samael was just acting like him, unknowingly, in his place.

Sighing softly, he smiled, and the look was kind and beautiful.

Just like Samael.

There was a sharp crack of a high caliber rifle.

Lucifer's head snapped to the side.

And he dropped.

Eyes bulging, sucking in a horrified breath, Chloe's swung her gun up as her training kicked in, sourcing the sound and firing multiple shots in the direction of the sniper who'd just downed Lucifer in front of her.

There was another crack.

Something slammed into her temple at the same moment, throwing her back onto the hard concrete.

Her body came to rest.

And she stared up at the corrugated ceiling far above, her thoughts growing sluggish and thick.

_My head..._

_head hurts..._

Everything _stopped._

And a young girl with a goofy haircut stepped into view, her expression grave.

"Chloe, don't move. Stay in there."

Sitting up, utterly confused by everything, Chloe turned to look at her.

_Azrael?_ she asked, frowning. _What are you doing here?_

Azrael slapped her palm over her face. "I said don't move, why did you... oh no..."

"Chloe!?"

At the sound of her name, said with such horror and disbelief, Chloe turned.

Lucifer was on his side nearby, his eyes stretched wide and so full of white, his mouth yawning open.

_Oh my god, Lucifer,_ she said, reaching for him with a wild rush of gratitude. _I thought you were dead!_

"Brother," came Azrael's voice, low and wary, "please calm down, we'll get-"

"CHLOE?!"

He shot forward, his hand sweeping to her own, as his eyes bulged at something on the ground behind her.

"Chloe," Azrael snapped, "get back in your body, right now."

She turned to look at the dark angel, her mind glitching over something that had just happened with Lucifer, and something that had just been said.

Lucifer's hand, and her own... they hadn't met.

But they _should_ have.

_get back in your body_

With a startled cry, Chloe shot up, twisting back to look at what lay behind her.

"Why are you doing the opposite of everything I say?!" Azrael cried, before shifting towards her brother, her hands outstretched. "Lucifer, you need to calm-"

**CHLOE!**

The words tore through the building, stirring a cloud of dust, rippling the clothing and hair of the person lying in a growing pool of blood before him.

_That's... that's..._ Chloe whispered, stunned.

Lucifer's despairing gaze cut from her shocked face, to the glassy stare of the body wearing her clothes.

Wearing her face.

Chloe shook her head. _No, that's... that's not..._

There was a blinding flash of light, one that filled the entire space and her being with a warm, expansive peace.

And the scene resolved back to Lucifer holding the body in his arms, brushing a bloodied strand of hair back from the side of her head where a terrible wound had been opened before.

The eyes still stared at nothing.

Chloe took a step back, her hand rising to her mouth.

_I'm not... that's not..._

The man she loved looked up from the body at her, his eyes drowning.

"Come back," he whispered, his voice broken.

"Chloe!" Azrael cried, everything in her expression, her posture, screaming terror and panic. "Get back in it! We'll get Dad!"

Azrael's terror slid through her like knives of ice - Chloe jerked back, filled with horror at the sight of the body, at Lucifer's abject despair. None of this was right! None of it made sense! With a cry, she turned to run, her movements slow and thick and wrong, and found herself staring at the barrel of a rifle and a man with a mullet walking towards her.

But he wasn't looking at her.

He was looking _through_ her.

"Don't know how you survived, asswipe. Gunna fix that right now."

**YOU!**

With the force of Lucifer's violent cry, the man was thrown backwards, his finger jerking on the trigger as the rifle was thrown wide of his hand.

The space bloomed with light - none of it soft and all-encompassing and peaceful.

Everything was bathed in the baleful glow of rippling flame.

Chloe twisted to Lucifer.

The man she loved was standing, his wings out, wreathed in a roaring maelstrom of fire.

His eyes were blazing red, leaving black streams of smoke as he stepped forward, his burning gaze fixed entirely on the man scrambling to rise to his feet.

**Brother, no!**

_Lucifer!_ Chloe called. _Wait!_

He did not, and the flames dripped from his wings as he walked, catching on oils long impregnated in the concrete, spreading swiftly to the boxes and crates stacked around them.

And everything began to burn.

"The Usher, I presume?!" Lucifer growled, his eyes flaring brighter still.

The man staggered back into shelving, his mouth wide with terror.

Lucifer's voice became a clashing, discordant cry.

**ALLOW ME TO USHER YOU TO OBLIVION**

**STOP, BROTHER!** Azrael screamed.

The man who'd shot Lucifer, who'd shot someone else that Chloe didn't want to think about at all, started to scream.

And the scream grew terribly shrill as his body slowly dissipated in a fiery spray.

"Hey! Over here!"

Chloe spun again, her mouth open in horror, her phantom of a heart pounding.

The men from her squad!

No! They couldn't be here!

_GET OUT!_ she screamed at them.

But nobody heard her at all.

"What the hell is that thing!?"

"Wait, is that Decker?"

"Oh, shit!"

Someone pulled a trigger as the The Usher's screams cut off abruptly.

And the bullet dissipated to steam before Lucifer's face as he growled at the group, his eyes the burning hearts of twin suns.

The men were swept away, their bodies transformed to bright ash where they stood.

_LUCIFER, STOP!_ Chloe screamed, rushing to him.

But the sight of her had the opposite effect.

His mouth opened wide, those blazing eyes briefly shuttered in anguish, and he _roared._

The concrete beneath their feet liquefied, then hissed away, as everything in the warehouse exploded, before the building itself was devoured in a bright sphere of writhing fire. At its center, Lucifer rose, his form pulsing beyond the spectrum of yellows and whites to scathing, screaming blues and beyond.

**FATHER!** Azrael screeched, stepping back, her form bubbling as the sphere grew, consuming everything in its path. **HELP!**

Then she was gone.

The block on which the building sat was obliterated as the wall of all-consuming flame grew, claiming whole apartment complexes and businesses, devouring every living being within and without - workers trading out the night shift, families sitting down for dinner, drivers and drug dealers and joggers and dog walkers, cops and prostitutes and EMTs, homeless retreating to their shelters or any nook that would take them.

The souls streamed from the devastation in bright waves of light as the sphere grew, hungrily devouring their world.

Chloe screamed at Lucifer to stop, her voice without sound.

But nothing reached him.

He was lost in his own pain, unable to see anything beyond it.

Unable to stop.

Unable to pull back what he'd released.

She tried to hold him, to pull him back with contact, but her limbs passed uselessly through his molten form. She couldn't touch him in any way.

And it just seemed to cause him more pain.

The destruction doubled and tripled in size, and Chloe screamed, knowing her family, her friends, were about to die.

And he would not stop here.

The whole world would fall to him.

In desperation she looked beyond him, over the bright carcass of the earth that she stood above, for the ground was a smoldering crater beneath her.

And something caught her eye - a small piece of earth, untouched.

A patch of concrete floor, and a body.

Chloe made a small noise. A sob of disbelief and pain.

That was her body.

She _was_ dead. She hadn't wanted to face it before, but she had to face it now.

And Lucifer, in the midst of his wrath, had protected her terribly empty shell.

With the thought, Chloe stood next to it, surrounded by embers floating like fireflies and the pulsing light of the star that Lucifer had become.

She stared down at it, and felt an odd detachment from what she had been.

A single mother. An LA cop. Living such a small life.

How strange, to have struggled so.

In that moment, with that distance, her soul woke yet again to what she _truly_ was.

A fragment of God's power, excised with purpose, and delivered as a blessing by an angel.

More powerful in this moment than she had ever been.

The blessed soul that had worn the form of Chloe for a lifetime looked up at the blazing star of her celestial mate.

And smiled.

She lowered into the flesh, and with her own spark of power, reignited the life within.

The body arched up from the floor with a gasp.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, her gaze locked on Lucifer, and stood on her little island of untouched land in the midst of an apocalyptic fire storm.

There was little air to breathe in the miasma of ash and embers and flame.

So she made her own.

And opening her mouth, she spoke in the purest of tongues.

**STOP**

But Lucifer was locked as the heart of a star, his energy pouring outward endlessly, his rage and grief now an abstract function of destruction.

To save the world, she would need to save _him._

The blessed soul expanded outwards, seeking the edges of his pain devouring the world.

And finding them, she enfolded them, wrapping the essence of everything she was around them.

Then slowly pulled back.

It was easy, if she did not think of being Chloe.

Did not concern herself with her own worry and fears.

Did not become small and human again.

Slowly, she drew his power inward, and slowly, the energy of his pain decreased as his awareness grew of her and what she was doing.

She drew his star to her physical form as the fires weakened and died back.

Until he was standing before her, on the little island of concrete, his wings sagging, his naked body wreathed in flame.

In her arms.

**How,** he kept saying, in a voice broken and weary.

**How**

**Rest,** was all the blessed soul said, as she dampened the last of his fires upon the world, extinguishing him to ashen skin.

His eyes caught her own, burning still, anguished and lost.

They shuttered briefly as he brushed her face, his gaze searching and disbelieving, then fluttered closed.

And he sank.

On top of her.

"Oh crap," Chloe murmured, suddenly finding herself supporting the full weight of Lucifer, wings and all, on a little block of concrete at the bottom of a smoldering crater.

She sank with him, supporting him as best she could, controlling their fall, until she sat holding his head on her shoulder, her other arm weaved under the mass of his wings, cradling him against her chest. The rest of him lay between her legs, stretched out on ashen ground.

"Lucifer?" she whispered, brushing his cheek and the hair that had flopped over his eyes.

He didn't respond. His mouth was parted, his eyes darkly shadowed and closed.

Completely out.

Coughing, starting to sweat with the overbearing heat, Chloe stared around herself, struggling to grasp what had happened.

She'd _died._ She'd really, honestly died.

And Lucifer... seeing her, he'd completely lost it.

And so many more had died.

But then... she'd done something... _incredible._

She remembered it - enfolding his energy, pulling him back, drawing him near.

"I have you," she whispered, resting her cheek to his forehead as the crater around them hissed and spat.

He didn't stir.

A sound rose faintly. The chop chop chop of helicopter blades nearing.

Chloe blinked, registering it, and looked down in a panic at the mass of angel sprawled over her.

"Oh crap!" she squeaked again. "Lucifer!"

She cupped his cheek, and tried to lift his head, but he was leaden.

"Lucifer? I need you to wake up!"

The helicopter neared, its searchlight sweeping the edge of the crater. Back and forth, back and forth.

"LUCIFER! WAKE UP, PLEASE!"

She tried tucking his wings in, to narrow them at least so she could roll him over and hide them, but they were too large, too spread out. She couldn't shift enough to grasp them.

She still tried, even as the searchlight dipped into the crater, the bright blazing light seeking its center.

"Chloe!" a familiar voice cried, and suddenly hands were grasping Lucifer, pulling him up.

Smaller hands grasped her own, gathering her into a hug, and as the searchlight swept over her little island of concrete...

...they were gone.


	66. Normal and Simple and Human

The trip was bizarrely swift, the transition from smoldering apocalypse to open floorplan terribly jarring.

Azrael released her, and she managed a few steps into her living room before collapsing to her knees.

"Chloe, you okay?!" Amenadiel asked, stepping into view.

Wings brushed her, hanging limply from Lucifer's slumped form, gathered in Amenadiel's arms.

She nodded, mute, and reached for Lucifer's arm, her eyes growing wet.

"He'll be okay," Amenadiel said with a heavy sigh. "It's been a very, _very_ long time since he's done that."

He laid Lucifer carefully on the couch and turned to his sister. "Azrael, did you talk to Dad?"

"I tried to."

Chloe stared at Lucifer, crumpled against the soft leather. His arm was curled near his face. One wing hung limply over his body, the tip resting on the floor.

His red eyes flashed in her mind, wild with rage, and she jerked with the memory.

"What do you mean, you _tried_ to?"

"He's not available."

"What do you mean, he's not available?!"

"Please slow time, brother."

Amenadiel made an annoyed sound and the world grew quiet.

Chloe stood. She desperately needed something to drink.

"Brother, I said slow time."

"I am," Amenadiel said, with effort.

There was a pause.

"Then why is Chloe opening the fridge?"

Chloe pulled out the water jug, grabbed a glass, and started to pour. Everything felt a little odd. Like moving through treacle.

Nothing came out of the jug.

She dropped her blank stare across the living room down to what she was holding.

The water was moving inside the jug, but glacially, sloshing up towards the spout.

She pulled the container up and stared at it, open mouthed.

"What?" she murmured, before shaking it, trying to get things to move as they should.

Wait. Hadn't Azrael said something about-

The world grew loud again and water exploded from the jug like a fountain, splattering her, the counter, and the glass.

Dripping, she plucked the glass from the counter and raised it to toast the two angels staring bug-eyed back.

"Sure, why not!"

Then she started to cry, sagging over the counter.

"I don't know what's going on," Amenadiel murmured. "Stay with her, I'll go to Dan's. Bringing Father back here might help."

The world grew quiet again.

Chloe sobbed, her hands shaking.

She reached to where she'd felt the bullet hit. Her fingers came back smudged in dark, ashen blood.

With a small sound, she moved to the sink and desperately tried to wash her hair clean. Little things came with what she was washing away. Things that weren't blood or ash. Little pink things she'd seen at lots of crime scenes with head wounds.

Her hands shook harder.

Azrael stepped beside her.

"How am I alive?" she whispered, looking at the mess twirling down the drain of the sink. "I was shot in the head."

"Yup."

"So how am I alive?"

She looked up at the silent angel of death.

"Did you bring me back to life?"

Azrael shook her head, her expression carefully neutral.

"I don't have that kind of power."

"Then how?" Chloe whispered.

"I'm not sure what I'm allowed to say."

Chloe glared at her.

"Is this that 'agreement' thing Lucifer was talking about? Does everyone have an agreement with God about me?!"

The angel of death nodded.

"Yup."

Infuriating. Chloe wanted to yell at someone, to lash out, to release the wild emotion of this insane night.

But she couldn't yell at Azrael. The angel looked like that kid in school who always knew all the answers and got teased by all of the damn bullies. Who was super sweet and nice but could never get a date and was used as everyone's personal rug.

She couldn't do it.

Azrael smirked.

_Would it help if I looked like this?_

In a blink, something large and dark loomed over Chloe, a ragged void devouring the entire living room, with no limbs and no features. A yawning mouth into nothingness. Her mind slid in a panic over the shape.

She stared, wide-eyed, unable to speak.

"Sister. You are blocking the drinks cabinet."

The mass shifted, sliding swiftly to the other side of the room, where it folded back into the figure of a complete dork.

Lucifer leaned against the counter, wingless, fumbling to open the cupboard. One arm was thrust against the granite counter top, and clearly held most of his weight.

He drew out a bottle of scotch, unscrewed the lid, and upended the half-empty bottle, draining the entirety in moments.

Grimacing, he pulled out another.

Chloe tore herself from the dread of seeing Azrael's other form, to the dread of watching Lucifer drain a full bottle of scotch in a minute.

"Lucifer," she whispered, stepping to him. "I'm okay. Everything is okay."

He slammed the bottle down on the counter and reached for a third.

"Go look at the skyline and tell me everything is okay," he said quietly, unscrewing the cap and drawing the bottle to his lips.

Azrael sighed. "Brother, Dad can fix this."

The angel's voice continued as a thought in Chloe's head, _Do not look at the skyline._

That only made the need to do so worse, and she turned her head to see.

Her breath caught.

The lights of the city were gone. The lake of lights that usually surrounded the city were patchy puddles instead. Smaller lights circled the airspace - the flashing lights of police helicopters, and larger aircraft. A strange orange glow reflected off the underside of low lying clouds.

Sirens reached her faintly.

Chloe swallowed. Her throat was thick and dry.

"Oh _shit,_" she whispered.

"She never listens to me!" Azrael yelled, throwing her arms up, before moving to the couch and flopping back heavily. "Dad can fix this, brother, stop pretending to get drunk."

Another bottle hit the counter, another cap was unscrewed.

"Lucifer, stop," Chloe murmured, pulling her eyes from the view. She moved to him, to soothe his pain.

But he pulled away with the bottle, tossing it back just as swiftly as the rest, before dropping the empty into the sink.

Then he faced her, his hands on both counters, his body slumped.

His gaze was dark. Exhausted.

Angry.

**What are you**

The words washed over her in a violent wave - clamping her hands over her ears with a cry, she stared at him in shock.

There was a rush of wind. Azrael appeared in front of her, facing Lucifer.

"Quit it."

**What are you** Lucifer repeated over his sister, his gaze growing molten. **How did you stop me**

Chloe cradled her head in her hands, her eyes wide, as she sank away from them both.

Azrael pressed her hand against her brother's chest.

With a flick of her wrist, she shoved him.

Lucifer went flying, slamming into the far wall, just shy of the windows that lined the rest of the living room.

The impact left a crater in the drywall that Lucifer spilled from, landing in a heap on the floor.

"Sorry about your wall," Azrael said under her breath as she stepped forward and pulled her brother back up.

He slumped against her, his eyes dark, his face twisted in anguish.

**I do not understand**

"I know," Azrael answered softly, drawing him back to the couch.

**I have destroyed my home**

Azrael guided him down gently. He sagged wearily back against the leather.

"Dad will fix this."

**I should have stayed in Hell**

"No, Lucifer, don't say that," Chloe whispered, the meaning of the words cutting to her heart. "Please don't say that. This is my fault, I shouldn't have moved. Azrael told me not to, but I did."

**She speaks this tongue. She understands. She stopped me. How, sister? Who is she?**

"You are exhausted, brother. Rest here."

"How many died, sister?"

Azreal leaned over to kiss him on the crown of his head.

"Rest now."

Lucifer grew quiet.

The anger he'd shown, the words he'd spoke in a language she shouldn't have understood, struck Chloe as hard as a punch. She stared at a spot on the floor, feeling raw and wrong, and desperately trying to process all of it.

_Who is she_

There was a heavy rush of wings and Amenadiel stood just within the sliding doors, holding Trixie in his arms.

"Monkey!" Chloe cried, running forward to take her from Amenadiel. "Oh my God... thank you for bringing her home."

She needed this. She needed normal and simple and _human._

Her daughter was bleary eyed and yawning - a heavy but comforting weight in Chloe's arms. Trixie blinked a few times at Lucifer, now slumped on the couch again, before frowning up at Chloe.

"Mom? What's going on?"

Amenadiel was watching them closely. He leaned near his sister. "I had to take Fa... _her_ after Dan had put her to bed."

Trixie snorted at him from Chloe's arms. "I'm twelve. I put _myself_ to bed."

Her tired gaze slipped to Lucifer again. "What's he doing on the couch? Why's he naked?"

"I tried talking to hi... her." Amenadiel said to his sibling.

"I did too," Azrael answered back.

Frowning back from them both, Chloe turned away from the windows, purposely keeping her daughter from seeing the view.

"Something really bad happened, monkey," she said quietly. "But you're okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"Is Lucifer okay?"

Chloe smiled. Trixie had such a soft spot for Lucifer. It was incredibly endearing, even in the midst of chaos.

"I think he'll be okay," she said, nodding. "He's very tired."

"He doesn't look okay, mom."

"Luci burned himself out blowing up LA," Amenadiel said abruptly.

Chloe stared at him, her eyes bulging.

Why'd he say that?! That was the last thing her daughter needed!

But Trixie didn't appear to hear. She was focused entirely on Lucifer, slipping from Chloe's arms to the ground to step near.

"He's hurt," she whispered.

Chloe shook her head. "No, he's okay, baby, he's just really tir-"

"Wake up," Trixie said, her small voice oddly commanding.

"Monkey, it's probably..."

Lucifer rose, his gaze pinched, blinking at Trixie slowly.

Then he flopped back and hung his head, not meeting her eye.

"Trixie, I think we sh-"

"It was a shock," Trixie said quietly. "One you were not equipped to deal with."

Chloe blinked.

That didn't sound like Trixie.

Lucifer shook his head the slightest bit.

Her daughter sighed. "Chaos is perhaps not as beneficial as I had hoped."

"Monkey?"

"Mom," her daughter said quietly, not looking up, "maybe you should go to bed."

Chloe frowned.

"I'm fine, Trixie. I think _you_ should go to bed. Lucifer just needs some re-"

"Go to sleep, mom."

Shoving her hands on her hips, Chloe stared down at her daughter, who'd reached out to take Lucifer's hand.

His hand was limp in her small grasp.

"Trixie, I'm not tired. But you are. Say your goodnights and go clean your teeth."

Her daughter turned to her with wide eyes.

"Why aren't you leaving?"

Chloe narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "Okay, Beatrice. I've had enough of that. Off to bed, right now."

Her daughter's eyes grew wider.

"But... I don't want to go to bed! I don't have to! I'm omnipotent!"

A small noise came from Lucifer.

A snort or a laugh. A little ugly and half-hearted.

Chloe took a step back. "What did you just say?"

"Go to sleep, mom!" Trixie yelled, facing her.

**Father** Lucifer said in the chiming language of angels, with no change of expression at all, **how did she stop me**

Chloe grimaced, grabbing at her ears again in pain.

Then it hit.

The meaning of the strange tones that had hit her with such force.

_Father_

Her eyes grew enormous as she looked down at her child.

"W-what?"

Trixie's eyes closed with a sigh.

And Chloe was suddenly in her room, facing her bed, where the covers were folded back invitingly.

She jerked around with a gasp to find the door to the hallway closed.

"Hey!"

Rushing to it, she grabbed the handle to twist it open.

But it didn't budge.

"HEY!"

Chloe slapped the door, rattling the handle, her mind spinning.

Her daughter was God?!

TRIXIE WAS GOD?!

_That_ was the agreement?!

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

With an aggravated growl, she reared back and slammed her boot against the lock until the frame shattered, throwing the door wide open.

Then she stormed down the hall, back to the group standing there watching her in shock.

At the sight of her, Trixie stomped her feet as her hand curled into little fists.

"CHAOS SUCKS!" she yelled into the air.

"HEY!" Chloe yelled, pointing at her daughter.

Her daughter who was _God._

Every subsequent thought fled her mind, and she found herself stuck, just pointing at Trixie, as everyone waited expectantly.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" she finally yelled, unable to think, and acting in the only way she knew as the mother of a child who was misbehaving.

Trixie vanished.

Amenadiel and Azrael stepped back, their mouths falling open.

Lucifer stared at the spot Trixie had been, his bleary gaze sharpening.

Then he laughed.

Chloe's hand went to her mouth in horror.

"Trixie?" she cried, and turned, racing back down the hall to Trixie's room.

The door was closed. She pushed it open slowly.

And Trixie was on her bed, her arms crossed tightly, scowling.

"Monkey, I..."

The words failed.

Because this wasn't really her monkey...

"I'm still your child," Trixie said, slowly, her teeth clenched. "Even if I am God."

Chloe felt dizzy.

"But... why?"

"To live a human life. To be close to my son. To show him a simple love and affection, after keeping it from him for so long. We've talked about this before."

A terrible ache built up between her temples.

"But... why me?"

"You were always going to cross Samael's path. I designed you to have me and keep me human. Again, we had a chat about this but I erased it from your mind."

Chloe held onto the doorframe as her insides roiled.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she whispered.

"I'm not surprised," Trixie said, looking at her pointedly. "It takes a lot of energy to keep a _god_ in their _room._"

The pounding in Chloe's temples worsened as she chewed through words that didn't make any sense.

"W-what?"

"I can't leave this room. I've been trying and you've been stopping me. That's why you feel like that."

Chloe shook her head sloppily, swallowing as the room lurched. She stared up at Trixie with eyes pinched in pain and disbelief.

"I'm not keeping..." she whispered, sagging against the doorjamb. "I didn't put you..."

"You are. You did," Trixie answered, staring at her with the perfect expression of tween irritation. "Can I leave my room, mom? I have a city to fix, and a few billion lifeforms to resurrect. Maybe I'll skip the cockroaches, everyone hates those things."

Chloe stared back, her mind stuttering. The normal she had needed, the center of her life, had flipped completely. Everything hurt, even her skin. The pounding of her heart was thunderous.

And its drumbeat followed her into the dark as she collapsed to the floor.


	67. Decide

"Son."

The word slid to Lucifer in some deep, dark place.

He ignored it this time.

"Son, wake."

The word was a command, one he had to obey.

With a soft moan of protest, he surfaced, opening his eyes to find himself surrounded by light.

The light was warm, loving, the usual deal. Holding him, filling the reserves he had depleted in his rage.

The blanket of comforting thoughtlessness was torn away with the understanding, and the memory of his actions and their consequences flooded him.

He shrank away, curling into a ball, shielding himself with his wings.

He wished to be nothing. To fade again to the dark.

But the light would not let him be.

"Son."

"Father... leave me alone."

"No."

Lucifer curled tighter, trying to keep the light out.

But the light found him anyway, unfolding him in the space of his Father's love.

"Your home is restored. All is returned."

Lucifer's brow crumpled. He would still grieve for the lives he had taken, the destruction he had caused, no matter how brief.

"I am sorry," he whispered.

"I know."

"I do not understand what happened," he said again, his voice wavering. "I knew she would die. We had talked of such things. We had a plan."

The light merely bathed him, comforting him, replenishing him.

Closing his eyes, he allowed it, opening his arms and stretching his wings.

It felt wonderful.

"Talking is not experiencing, son. What you experienced was shocking. You were not ready. You will never truly be ready for the death of the one you love. It does not matter that you know where she will go and that you can follow."

Frowning, Lucifer drew his arms back over his chest.

"I no longer know who she is. She has changed."

"She has not changed, son. She is merely more aware of what she is. Which could make things... difficult."

The light slowly withdrew, drawing back from his senses, leaving him sitting on the couch at the Cliff House, surrounded by his siblings and facing his father as Beatrice.

Lucifer's arms crossed tighter.

The loss of the light always left a soft pang, no matter how much better he felt. The loss was harder to ignore this time, and twined tightly with the distrust he felt over Chloe's transformation.

Distrust was such a familiar landscape.

"How did she stop me," he asked, his voice flat. "What is she."

"I had to create someone with enough power to control me," Trixie said with a small smile. "But who would remain unknowing about it, so that that power would only be used for that purpose."

**What is she, Father. A direct answer, please.**

"The demiurge."

"I knew it!" Azrael yelled triumphantly, before growing quiet again. Amenadiel's eyes bulged.

Lucifer's jaw fell. The revelation was an anvil on his chest.

Trixie giggled. "That's a funny expression."

"Father," he said, slowly shaking his head. "You did _not._"

She smirked. "I did. Although I should clarify. She is a fragment of my creative force, not the whole thing."

"But, Father..."

"Yes, she could cause irreparable damage with a thought, I am aware. Up until this point there was no danger of that."

"Up until this point?" Lucifer echoed, his gaze wide with shock. "You mean, until I destroyed Los Angeles and she had to stop me? This is my fault then, is it?"

"Son," Trixie said, reaching out to grasp his hands. "That's not what I am saying. The emergence of the Third caused her to wake for the first time. He is the cause, and, ultimately, that's on me. Your pain," her expression dipped into sorrow, "and the damage it caused, brought her awareness forward again."

"Make her forget," he whispered quickly, not even looking at Trixie anymore, but down the hall to where Chloe had gone last. His heart pounded within his chest. "Please, Father, you must."

Trixie snorted. "Oh, so _now_ it's okay to wipe her mind?!"

"But she cannot handle this, Father," Lucifer pressed, leaning forward, "this power! She will not be the Chloe I knew any longer! She will be-"

"Changed?" Trixie said with a young girl's smile. "Like you were?"

Lucifer scowled, dropping back against the couch. "I am not changed."

From Beatrice's mouth came Chloe's voice, carrying the exact words she'd used in the warehouse.

_"You aren't completely yourself, are you? Because, you do all of these things now... and... your speech is different..."_

Rage made Lucifer's eyes burn, and the leather beneath his hands began to smolder.

"Never," he growled in warning, "ever, do that again."

Trixie sighed, her young gaze falling briefly. "I'm sorry, son. Do you see what I mean though?"

"Not using contractions is a _little _different than reshaping the world with a thought, Father!" he cried. "How could you do this?!"

"With some effort," she yelled back, her small fists cocked against her sides, "and the hope of reconnecting with you!"

"The price is too high!"

"You don't give her enough credit!"

"You cannot CONTROL HER!" he roared, standing.

And his Father, in the form of a little girl, nodded.

"No, I can't."

She smirked. "But I can't control _you_ either. And I find it a _little_ ironic you're the one worrying about control."

That silenced him.

He stared down the hall again. The bedroom door was closed.

Pieces of drywall were scattered on the floor where his sister had thrown him.

His brow furrowed in regret. Yes, he had been exhausted, and afraid, and horrified at what he had done. But he should not have spoken to Chloe like that. She had not understood.

She had been hurt.

"Where is she."

"Unconscious, in the bedroom. Which is best for now."

Trixie released a heavy breath.

"We must discuss a plan, all of us, on how to proceed, now that... son?"

Lucifer walked away.

The doorknob was cool against his hand when he reached their door, and he stared at it for a moment, feeling a rare reservation.

But his heart dissolved the feeling with concern for Chloe.

With his fear for her.

With love.

He opened the door. Chloe lay on the bed, her body straight, in the same clothes she had been wearing.

Her collar was soaked in red.

A flash of memory came, unbidden, of her body on the floor with eyes empty and staring.

That terrible wound.

Her shimmering soul staring back at him in confusion and shock.

_I thought you were dead!_

Lucifer shook his head sharply with a soft noise of pain, dismissing the scene.

_Not now._

Slowly, he approached, watching her features for the first signs of waking. She looked pale, her eyes shadowed.

Strained and lost, even in sleep.

That pulled him. Slowly, gently, he laid himself down on the bed beside her, drawing in against her side.

Unfurling his wings, he folded one over her protectively. Comfortingly.

The creases around her eyes eased, and she shifted slightly, curling into him.

A tear rolled from the corner of her eye down her cheek.

"You are awake," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her.

She nodded gently, curling in closer.

"I am sorry," he said softly, closing his eyes. "I should not have spoken to you like that. I was afraid."

Chloe began to cry.

"Nothing makes sense," she sobbed, her hand grasping his side desperately. "I don't want any of this. I feel things, I hear things. There's so much out there now... I can't pull myself back."

Frowning, he stroked her cheek. "What things?"

"The cells moving through your heart. The tapestry of atoms in the wall, the air, your eyes. I can hear stars singing in tones of pure light. The land here holds a history and its so terribly sad. I don't... I can't take all of this..."

She pulled in tighter, and he looked over her shoulder, his eyes wide.

So very different, and so much greater, than his own transformation. He could hear the thoughts of everyone near, and tap into the love expressed by every soul no matter how far. It was so much, but he could cope.

There was a way she could too.

"Then do not, Chloe. Leave it where it is. Close yourself from it, for now."

"How?"

With her need, suddenly everything was clear. A path through it all that would protect her.

And everyone that shared this world with her.

"Decide that you are simply Chloe," he said softly. "Decide that your daughter is simply Beatrice. Make these decisions and so it will be."

Her beautiful blue eyes opened, drowning with tears, and found his.

The sight stole his breath, and he fell into them as he always did, willingly.

"That's it?"

Smiling, he nodded.

"That's what I want."

"Then will it."

Those beautiful eyes closed, and she nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration.

"You are simply Chloe. Your daughter is simply Beatrice," he whispered. "It is no more complicated than that."

The frown eased, and the softest smile played at her lips.

And she snuggled in close and fell asleep.

He rested with her as his heart eased its thundering, until the door opened and Amenadiel stepped in, holding the sleeping form of Trixie.

"Father is not responding, brother? What happened?"

"Take Beatrice back to Dan's, Amenadiel," Lucifer whispered. "He will worry if she is not there when he wakes. And as for Father... he is exactly where he wished to be."

And he grinned, because he could not help himself.

Frowning and uncertain, Amenadiel turned away and flew from the house with his small, once more human, charge.

Azrael waved from down the hall with a smile and did the same.

And curled up with the woman he loved, Lucifer let the night pass in peace, awash in the murmuring dreams of his neighbors nearby, and the small and grand gestures of love exchanged through the great web of life across the Earth.

Smiling, the smallest embers alight in his eyes, he held Chloe close.

And finally allowed himself to _truly_ rest.


	68. These Murderous Vermin

_Wow. I didn't realize this chapter was going to be quite this huge. XD (or quite this silly)_

_Sorry it took so long! Honestly, I'm drowning in work and have been for a while. I am however seeing a break soon. Can't wait._

_This is one of my wrap up chapters. I hope you like it. :) Thank you so much to everyone who's left a review along the way. You're all lovely._

_Only a chapter (or two?) to go! :D_

* * *

"Why this place?" Lucifer asked, adjusting his cuffs as he narrowed his gaze at the sign.

It was bright and colorful, with a large, overly adorable cat holding a coffee mug. The feline's anime-style eyes were closed in bliss.

"Meowful Café," he murmured, before looking down at Chloe with a pained expression.

"Sounds meowful."

She giggled, her arm twined around his waist as they walked to the glass door.

"And by that I mean awful."

"Oh, I know," she said with a laugh, stepping in as he held the door open for her, ignoring the little bell that jangled overhead. "This is one of Ella's favorite spots. She's excited about us meeting her new boyfriend."

"Hmm," he offered, noncommittally.

"She actually seemed more excited about _you_ meeting him, for whatever reason."

"Mmm," he murmured, pulling out a chair for her to sit. "What was his name?"

Chloe sat and smiled up at him. "You won't like it."

"Oh?"

"Michael."

He grimaced. "Oh."

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "Didn't think so. Anyway, she said he was something special. That's good. She deserves special."

Lucifer managed an earnest smile. "Indeed." He pushed in her chair and turned to orient himself to the barista. "Let me see if this-"

He stopped dead.

Chloe followed his gaze and squealed. "Ooh!"

"There are cats," he said flatly.

"Oh, did I not mention that?" Chloe said mischievously. "This is a cat café. They mingle fosters with people in the hopes of getting them adopted."

"You did not mention the cats," Lucifer said, frowning, as one feisty little ginger made a beeline for his leg. "Shoo. No. I have no desire to... Chloe... the animal is crawling up my leg."

"Oh my god, look at you!" Chloe squealed again, extricating the puss from Lucifer and pulling it into a hug.

Leaving a fascinating pattern of perforations and a streak of orange fur on his favorite pants.

Scowling, Lucifer strode purposefully to the counter, where another cat latched itself onto the back of his leg and started its ascent.

Scowl deepening, Lucifer ignored it pointedly, until a third cat jumped up on the counter as he was opening his mouth to make an order.

"Feline, now is not the time," he said, picking it up and placing it back on the ground.

The cat scaling his legs triumphantly emerged on his back, where it started rubbing itself happily.

"Get off," Lucifer snapped sharply, standing suddenly in the hopes of dislodging it, as more cats of all sizes and colors began to swarm his legs, rubbing their unsightly furs all over him.

"Unbelievable!" he growled, as the cat he'd hoped to dislodge held on for dear life and poked its head over his shoulder.

"What is the command to make them leave?" he asked the barista, desperately.

The barista snorted at that and her eyes widened as another cat jumped up on the counter and proceeded to rub itself all over Lucifer's hand, arm, and chest, smacking his face with her tail as she passed.

"Command?" she finally managed, poorly hiding more laughter. She shook her head. "They're cats, sir?"

"This is intolerable," Lucifer muttered, as the cries of delighted cats rose around him, mingling with the giggles and gasps of the patrons.

He batted them away, brushed them off, and shifted incessantly as the barista fulfilled his order, though she seemed terribly distracted throughout.

It mattered not.

In the end, he returned to the table with a triple espresso, a black coffee with two sugars, and seven cats. Three perched or climbing his person, four trailing.

Chloe looked up from stroking her new soulless ginger companion with a fond smile.

And jerked back at the sight of him.

"Oh my god, Lucifer?!"

He handed her coffee over calmly as the domestic short hair on his shoulder rubbed itself silly on his cheek, then he sat down stiffly opposite her. The felines merely shifted, one to the opposite shoulder, as an overweight long hair jumped on the table and headbutted his arm.

Lucifer looked at Chloe in pain. The four who'd been trailing him twirled around his legs, climbed onto the seat beside him, onto his lap, and onto the table.

"I do not like cats," he said, through the sea of waving tails.

"But," she said, her eyes wide, covering her mouth to hide an obvious giggle, "they really like you."

She leaned in as the crowd grew in number. "Seriously, why do they like you so much? Is it because you're an angel?"

He shook his head with a scowl.

Ignoring the cats was achieving nothing. Every time he brought the paper cup to his lips the cats bumped into it en masse, purring.

He gave up, tsking as the grey short hair on his shoulder started cleaning herself. He shrugged, hoping to dislodge her, but she merely hung on, her claws firmly embedded in his suit.

"Watch the Prada!"

She headbutted him fondly.

"Can't you just tell them to leave?" Chloe whispered through another giggle. "You know, talk to them? You can talk to anything, right?"

"I do not speak _cat_," he snapped, his eyes spitting red. "The debased language of these murderous vermin shall not pass these lips."

Chloe snorted, before pursing her own lips in an obviously gargantuan effort not to laugh.

"I'm so sorry, Lucifer, we can go if you want."

She said it with concern, but she was still giggling.

"No," he said, dislodging three cats from the table with a sweep of his arm. "I shall endure for Ms. Lopez's sake. I wish to meet this Michael. If he does not deserve her, I shall make him aware of it very quickly."

Chloe grinned. "I know you're trying to sound threatening, but you're literally a cat bed right now."

Lucifer crossed his arms with a dark scowl, pressing back into the seat. The cats immediately shifted, one claiming the prized space atop his arms and kneading into the inside of his elbow.

He glared at Chloe throughout.

"Hi-iii!" came the bright voice of their coworker and friend, following the crisp jingle of the bell over the door.

Ella bounced over, grinning. "Sorry I'm late, I... whoa." She stopped dead at the sight of Lucifer.

He looked up at her, unsmiling.

"Miss Lopez."

"That's... that's so weird," she said, pointing at him as Chloe looked up at her with a grin.

"What's weird?" Chloe echoed, her grin growing wider. "You mean, the carpet of cats Lucifer has become?"

"No," Ella said quietly, her finger still hovering in the air at Lucifer. "Because Michael... has the same..."

The door jingled again.

And in walked a blonde man in blue jeans, a grey hoodie and a horribly familiar, beatifically smiling, and eminently punchable, face.

"No," Lucifer whispered, sitting bolt upright before standing sharply to his feet.

The multitude of cats spilled from him with a range of disgruntled cries, before quickly circling back. But some of the mass shifted, drawn towards Michael like idiots to their idiot king.

"What?" Chloe asked, standing much more slowly, before turning to see who it was.

Michael's smile broadened, and he spread his arms wide.

"Brother!"

With a strange grin, Ella looked at Lucifer, then Michael, and back to Lucifer.

She giggled.

"Oh my god," Chloe whispered.

Michael stepped forward, wading through the shifting sea of felines, his arms still outstretched.

Lucifer shrank back against the booth. "What are you doing?"

"I am going to hug you," Michael said warmly. "Ella Lopez has-"

"Just Ella, babe," Ella said, scooping up a black and white cat and hugging it close. "I love tuxedo cats!"

Michael continued, nearing, "Just Ella has shown me that it is the best way to greet someone, especially if you do it very tightly and swing with your hips."

Ella snorted. "Not too tightly, though - remember what happened to that bus driver? He was _not_ happy. And then we had to walk, then you got bored of walking and then we were..."

She stopped herself, grinning.

Michael shook his head, stepping nearer. "He was fragile, my brother is different. I am excited to give him the full experience without restraint."

"Touch me, brother," Lucifer growled, raising an index finger to make his point, "and I will tear off your arms and feed them to the vermin circling my feet."

"It is happening, brother," Michael said, grinning, "best lean into it."

Ella giggled. "This is so funny, and I can't even tell you why it's funny, and you would never guess in a million years why it was funny."

Lucifer knew exactly why Ella thought it was funny, but the moment was most unamusing to him.

"Michael," Chloe snapped, pushing up from behind Ella and stepping between them. "Back off."

The effect on Michael was dramatic, and immensely satisfying. Lucifer's sibling jerked back from Chloe, plowing through the cats milling about his legs, before tripping over one and promptly falling on his angelic ass.

"Babe!" Ella cried, rushing to help him up as he stared at Chloe in shock.

"You did not tell me that the Blessed One would be here," he whispered to Ella as he rose from the floor.

Ella frowned at him. "The Blessed what?" She looked at Chloe and back. "What are you talking about?"

"Miss Lopez," Lucifer said softly, ignoring the cats headbutting perilously close to this nethers, "it might be best if you sat."

Michael shifted, keeping Ella between himself and Chloe.

"You only told me that someone pretending to be my brother would be here."

Ella grinned. "Yeah, and you totally ran with it! I knew _he_ would, cause he's an actor, but you! You were so funny!"

Michael frowned at her as a cat clawed its way to his shoulder and started making love to his ear.

"I was?" he asked, idly scritching the cat's chin.

"Yeah! I didn't know you'd run with it like that!" She giggled and grabbed his arm. "You don't joke around that much, I like it."

Michael looked to Lucifer.

"What have I run with, exactly?"

"Miss Lopez," Lucifer repeated, pointedly catching her eye. "I must recommend you sit."

And he gestured for her to do so, as Chloe retreated to her seat, glaring at Michael before glancing back at Lucifer in concern.

_Uh oh,_ she thought to him.

_Indeed,_ was his short reply.

Ella snorted and sat. "Okaaaay."

She grinned then, as brightly as Lucifer had ever seen, and slapped the table. "I have a secret, and I want to tell you so bad, but I don't want to sound crazy, or freak you out, so... I'ma just sit here and squeal every once in a while, okay? Ohmigod, look at this white floofball!"

She plucked a white long hair from the five cats swarming the table and cuddled the kitty in her lap, smiling. "I really just come here for the cats. They're kinda my happy place, you know?"

A guy wearing a pink Meowful hat placed a cup in front of her. "Here's your usual, chica."

Ella grinned at him. "Thanks, Roberto. Are you going to sit, babe?" she asked Michael, taking a long sip.

Michael's eyes were locked on Chloe.

"You will not attempt to kick my penis under the table?" he asked, holding two cats as a furry shield.

The coffee Ella had sipped burst in a fine mist from her mouth, sending every cat on the table scrambling for dry land.

Chloe snorted, then quickly covered her mouth.

Lucifer grinned like the devil.

"WHAT!" Ella squeaked, grabbing her napkin to wipe herself down before staring back and forth from Chloe to Michael. "What?!"

The word just kept coming then, as she looked between all of them. "What? What? What?!"

Michael pointed at Chloe helpfully. "I asked the Blessed One if she would refrain from kicking my pe-"

"Brother, stop," Lucifer said quietly, holding up his hand.

"What's going on?" Ella whispered, turning from Lucifer to Chloe. "Why does he keep calling you that?"

Chloe winced. Picking up her coffee, she dived into it instead of answering.

_Help,_ came her thought.

"Miss Lopez," Lucifer said calmly. "I would suggest holding onto a cat."

Ella snorted with a wicked grin. "Why? You about to tell me something I don't want to hear?"

"Yes," he said bluntly. "Please, take one of mine."

And he pushed the newly restored layer of shifting felines her way.

She giggled and gathered two in her lap, as Michael slowly sat beside Lucifer, his eyes still fixed on Chloe.

Lucifer scowled as his brother shifted in, and the writhing mass of cats about them increased. "Please sit elsewhere."

"There is nowhere else, Samael, and I wish to be near this one. If you require me to fight you for this seat, I will."

Michael grinned then, entirely too close.

As were the ten cats now attempting to smother them both.

"What happened to all the kitties?" a family across the room asked, as did several others.

"That's not fair! How'd they get so many?"

"I want what they're having!"

Lucifer sighed.

"Wait," Ella said suddenly over her coffee. "Babe, what'd you call him?"

Michael leaned into Lucifer.

Lucifer leaned away scowling.

"She keeps calling me a diminutive of baby," Michael whispered. "I do not think she grasps my true age."

"It is a term of endearment," Lucifer murmured back, "one she is wasting on you."

And as his brother glared at his ear, he answered Ella's question.

"Samael."

Ella frowned, idling scritching a cat's head as it purred ecstatically. "Why'd he call you that?"

"It is my true name."

Chloe smiled at him softly. He returned the smile, then flinched as a giant calico bonked him on the nose.

Ella shook her head with a grin. "You two are going deep! Wow! Babe, I am so impressed."

"I am many billions of years old, Ella Lopez, I am not a baby."

She giggled, snuggling a tiny grey cat with bright yellow eyes. "I like this one."

Michael gestured helplessly. "It makes no difference what I say, I am now 'babe'."

"Well, _babe,_ why are you here?" Lucifer said, on the cusp of a growl. "Why are you bothering Miss Lopez?"

"Hey!" Ella said, absorbing a third cat. "He's not bothering me! I found him in a church! He's a..."

And giggling, she took another swig of coffee, saying the word into her cup.

Everyone heard it.

"You deserve better, Miss Lopez."

"That wounds me, brother," Michael muttered, cuddling an enormous cat with a squashed face, who honestly just looked confused about being a cat.

"How could I deserve better?! He's like _literally_ a," she grabbed the cup again and almost screamed it into the thing.

Chloe sighed and gently took Ella's hand. "Hey, Ella, um..."

"Let's go outside!" their friend said suddenly. "Maybe... maybe somewhere private, and then, you could maybe," she waggled her eyebrows at Michael.

He simply stared at her intently, waiting for her to finish.

Lucifer rolled his eyes.

Standing to his feet abruptly, dislodging a plethora of cats, he unfurled his wings with a snap.

Cats fled in all directions - some vertically - as his wings arched behind him grandly, bright in the spotlights of the café.

And he looked kindly down at Ella, who was soundlessly gaping up at him.

"Do not be afraid, Miss Lopez. I am as I have always been."

"Inferior to me in every way," Michael added, jumping up beside Lucifer with a grin as he unfurled his own wings. His illusory tricks kicked in just as swiftly - the dramatic hair, the halo, more wings.

Lucifer drew his own wing back slightly, then smacked his brother in the face with it.

"Ow!" Michael yelped. His illusions cut off abruptly from behind the newly restored wall of white.

"Lucifer," Chloe whispered, looking around the room slowly. At the families sitting drinking coffee, the barista hunched over the machine, the servers tending to customers without bothering to glance their way.

She looked back up at him with a frown.

"Why aren't they reacting to your wings?"

Lucifer smiled.

"They cannot see them."

The frown deepened. "But... _I_ can see them, and," she pointed at the still-frozen Ella, "wow, can she see them. Why can't everybody else?"

"Because I am blocking their ability to do so."

Chloe's head jerked forward.

"You're doing what?!"

Michael emerged from behind Lucifer's wing holding his hand over his nose.

"Brother, that is most impressive," he said in the voice of a muppet.

Lucifer shifted his wing in front of him once more.

"Thank you. Now... Miss Lopez."

Ella hadn't moved. Her eyes were enormous, fixed entirely on Lucifer.

"Ella?" Chloe said, resting her hand on their friend's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Buh," Ella said.

Frowning, Lucifer furled his wings.

At least, he attempted to.

One wing went in, but the other had a cat attached to it, its face buried in a clump of feathers.

Lucifer snapped the wing out sideways, flinging the cat across the room.

There was a distant human shriek as he straightened his suit and sat down.

"Miss Lopez?"

"Behbbuh," Ella said.

Michael sat beside Lucifer, nodding thoughtfully.

"I have heard this language before, when we first met, but I have not yet deciphered it. I have deduced that it is not Spanish, for she has spoken that. It is some other dialect. Brother, you speak every language, what does it mean?"

Lucifer stared at him for a moment, incredulous.

"Idiot," he murmured.

Michael laughed.

"Ella Lopez, you are correct, my brother _is_ an idiot."

Lucifer bared his teeth.

Chloe rubbed Ella's arm, smiling uncertainly. "Hey, you okay? I know it's a bit of a shock, but-"

"The devil..." Ella whispered, her gaze still locked on Lucifer. "You always said..."

Her thoughts were turning sharp and panicked.

Not good. He could not have the world's nicest person freaking out in her favorite café.

Drastic measures were called for.

Clearly, they needed more cats.

Taking in a deep breath, resigning himself to do something he had vowed never to do, Lucifer closed his eyes.

And started a siren song of love.

In cat.

Every single furball in the entire café swarmed him, answering his call with wailing cries of their own, rubbing up against every spare part of him they could find. Outside the café, feral cats gathered, jumping up to peek in the windows, wanting what they just could not have.

"Brother, are you in pain?" Michael asked, attempting to part the waves of felines so he could still see Ella.

Chloe started laughing, and could not stop laughing, sinking swiftly under the feline sea, as Lucifer continued, turning the song into a request.

And every cat turned to Ella.

They started to purr, their eyes blinking slowly. Some jumped into her lap, others rubbed against her chin, others still simply threw up their legs and started cleaning their unmentionables in her general direction.

"No me gustan los gatos, señorita Lopez, pero por ti los llamaría a todos," Lucifer said softly, pulling two delirious cats from his chest and throwing them into his brother's lap. "I am still the same Lucifer you know. Please do not fear me. I do not believe I could stand it."

"What did you say to her?" Michael asked, frowning at Lucifer. "I demand to know!"

"Something really sweet, babe," Ella said quietly, her eyes still fixed on Lucifer.

Then she let out a forced breath and nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Lucifer echoed, his brow raised. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then he felt her next thought before she spoke it and his jaw fell.

"Oh no," he whispered.

"Call _all_ of the cats," she said, smirking, even as every cat in the café milled between them, bumping into shoulders and arms and chins and anything within reach.

"But," he said. "They are all here."

Shaking her head, Ella stood and walked over to the door where a herd of ferals still milled outside.

She opened the door, and the ferals shrank back, darting back and forth just out of reach.

"All of the cats."

Lucifer looked to Chloe for help, but she'd abandoned ship, ducking away to the barista to refill her coffee.

"Miss Lopez, surely-"

"Oh, no no, not getting out of this!" Ella said with a smirk. "I've known you all this time, and you never once thought to pop those bad boys out to prove who you were?! You let me think you were an _actor?!_ Do you know how annoying it is to meet a _real_ angel, to barely keep it a secret, finally decide to tell your closest friends, and then find out that, oh yeah, _Ella_, that's no big deal - Chloe's been in love with one for FIVE YEARS?!"

"But I have not always had win-"

"You stole my angel thunder! I need this! You said all of the cats!"

Lucifer made a small noise of pain.

"Technically, I said 'los llam-"

"Nope!" Ella said, shaking her head. "All. Of. The. Cats."

"Chica," the guy said behind the counter, "please close the door - our kitties will escape."

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Roberto!" she called back, before starting at Lucifer pointedly. "They'll come back!"

"Fine!" Lucifer snapped back, before rising to his feet and straightening a suit now liberally speckled in cat hair.

"Just know, Miss Lopez, that this was your choice."

"Bring it."

Chloe returned at that moment, sipping her coffee with a smile.

"What'd I miss?"

"The fact that my brother is superior to me," Michael said, his voice strained, one hand propped under his chin.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What?" Lucifer said.

Michael gestured sloppily. "You can alter what humans see, you understand everything Ella Lopez says, and you can summon cats..."

"I can also heal with a touch," Lucifer added quickly, "and came close to destroying a god."

"Lucifer," Chloe murmured, watching the effect on Michael.

Lucifer happily noted it. "So, yes, brother, I am superior to you in ev-"

"Lucifer!" she snapped.

His brother's head was now resting on the table, one arm folded over it.

A cat sat on him.

Lucifer looked at Chloe, who was gesturing emphatically in Michael's direction. Suggesting he should offer comfort to his brother in some way, be perhaps a little more sensitive?

"Tell me more?" he said to Michael, before looking back at Chloe for approval.

Rolling her eyes, she went back to the barista.

Ella walked back to the table, frowning.

"I can do none of these things," Michael mumbled from under the cat. "I am good only for battle. The base arena of combat." Releasing a heavy sigh, he waved his fingers over his buried head. "Mere brutish thuggery."

Lucifer nodded in agreement. "Yes, and?"

Ella smacked him on the arm.

"Babe, you're so much more than that," she cooed, sitting down next to Michael and draping her arms around him.

He stirred slightly, dislodging the cat to look up at her.

"I am?" he whispered.

Ella smiled.

"Yeah," she said.

At the same time Lucifer said, "No," which earned him another smack.

"You're my angel," Ella said with a soft smile.

Michael raised his nauseatingly perfect eyebrows.

"I am?"

She nodded, and squeezed him close.

He stared up at Lucifer in confusion.

"Is it normal for angels to belong to humans, brother?"

Lucifer shrugged.

"We do appear to be skewing the average."

His brother took the words in deeply - accepting them as some kind of authority. An anchor of sorts.

And Michael looked at Ella with something Lucifer had never seen on his brother's face before.

Open wonder.

"I have never belonged to another, Ella Lopez," Michael whispered.

And he gave a genuine, soft smile.

Lucifer took a small step back, his eyes locked on his brother in shock. There was something stirring in Michael. Something so alien in the landscape of his brother's being that Lucifer could only watch, stunned, as it filled the fabric of the space around them, twining with the undercurrent he was always now aware of.

A bright bloom of love.

"Well, you do now," Ella said with another brilliant smile, before tilting her head. "And it means I belong to you too."

Michael's smile grew radiant as his eyes grew brighter still - like crystal blue waters under sunlight. Leaning into Ella, he kissed her, and the bloom of love deep within him grew expansively, finding expression in a new light upon his skin.

Ella's eyes widened and she pulled back, her gaze wandering his face. "Babe... are you _glowing?_"

Lucifer tsked. "I can also glow, Miss Lopez, if I cou-"

A hand clasped over his own and tugged at him. Chloe drawing him away.

"Let them have that," she said gently as he turned from the couple, frowning.

To find the orange cat they'd first met in the café in her arms, under her beautiful, warm smile.

He pointed at it.

"You have a cat," he said.

"_We_ have a cat," she said right back, grinning as the tabby rubbed its face on her chin, its expression one of bliss.

Just like the sign.

"No," he whispered, his eyes widening. She was holding papers by her side, and the cat rescue logo flashed as she shifted the kitty slightly to face him.

"Please?" Chloe asked, her eyes bright and hopeful, her smile growing even more beautiful. "I promise I'll do the poop scooping!"

The cat looked up at him and began to purr, loudly.

"See?" she said, grinning. "He loves you! How can you say no to that?"

Lucifer looked at her, his brow steepled.

He could say no to any cat.

But he could not say no to _her._

Perhaps one more appeal to reason?

"Chloe, that is _not_ love."

The slightest frown touched her brow as she stared down at the tabby, who was stretching out a paw to bat at Lucifer's tie.

"But he's purring! All of the cats adored you - I don't get why you don't like them?"

Lucifer let out a sharp sigh, yanking his tie from the tabby's grasp.

And unfurling his wings, masking the sight from everyone in the café, he gestured grandly at the broad, feathered limbs behind him.

"Because, Chloe, to these furry monstrosities, I am essentially a giant _bird!_"

And he glared at the tabby, whose pupils had grown _enormous._

Chloe burst into laughter.

The tabby squeaked excitedly.

And drew a tiny little tongue across its lips.


End file.
